


These Few Short Hours (or The End of the World)

by Weightless



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Dominant Snape, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Submissive Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22022680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weightless/pseuds/Weightless
Summary: During the war the Order are forced into hiding. Harry knows that when he leaves he is unlikely to survive, and the desperation and aching loneliness of this draws him to Severus' bedroom in the dead of night.After the war is over, it is left for Severus to heal Harry's broken soul.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 57
Kudos: 871





	1. For Gold, he Gives a Keen Edged Sword

#  These Few Short Hours (or _The End of the World_ ) 

####  For Gold, he Gives a Keen Edged Sword 

‘Do you ever sleep? Harry asked. His voice stuck in his throat from lack of use and he had to cough slightly after he had spoken. 

Snape raised his eyebrows, scoffing slightly. ‘Do you?’ 

‘Barely.’ Harry admitted honestly. 

It was half past one in the morning and Harry was sat, his legs curled underneath him, in an armchair by the fire of the library in Twelve Grimmauld Place. Outside, the air was dark and silent, the room lit only by the flickering half-light of the fire. Harry had been living in the house since the end of his seventh year. The order still held their headquarters there, and now that he was a full member it seemed the safest place for him to be. It had taken nine months for the fighting outside to get so dangerous that the other members of the order had moved into the safe house for their own protection. They were to be sent out during the final days of the war when they were needed most and until then they were in hiding. 

Barely was an overstatement of Harry’s sleeping habits. He would avoid going to bed until the early hours of the morning, when he was so tired that his eyes would sting from it, only to be woken sometimes less than an hour later by his own screaming. He spent his evenings in the library, reading, or at least pretending to. In reality, he spent more time staring at the pages without taking anything in, his eyes too tired to focus. Harry was not the only one. Many of those who had been alive during the first war would sit with equally haunted looks on their faces late into the evening before dragging themselves off to their own rooms. 

Tonight, the others had gone to bed earlier than usual, leaving Harry alone with Snape, and Harry had spent most of the time since then staring at him. He had spent a lot of time staring at Snape since he had come to live at Grimmauld Place. At first he had tried to convince himself that it was because he was intrigued by the man, having finally understood his place in the war. But he was long past that now – not when often all he could think of was what Snape would taste of, and how his skin would feel pressed up against his own. 

They had fallen into silence again, Harry turning the pages of his book without really reading them, glancing up at Snape every few moments. Eventually, he caught his black eyes glancing back. 

‘Do you still have to go to his meetings?’ Harry asked, voicing softly the question that had been on his mind ever since Snape had proved his allegiance to the Light beyond doubt. 

Snape cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘To whose meetings are you referring, Mr Potter?’ Snape’s voice was smooth and low, like dark silk, and Harry couldn’t help but to push himself forward in his armchair, just to be inches closer to him. 

‘Voldemort’s.’ Harry said simply. 

Snape considered Harry for a moment, as if wondering whether he was trustworthy, or at least mature enough to know what to do with the information he was abort to give him. Then he said, ‘Yes.’ Before pausing. 

Harry tried to keep his face as impassive as possible. Snape continued ‘Although, he is none the wiser of my true allegiances. He believes me to be in hiding to avoid persecution from the Light side.’ 

‘I see.’ Harry said, marvelling somewhat at how skilled an Occlumens Snape must be to keep this information hidden. ‘So he has no idea that you’re here, with us?’ 

‘He does not.’ 

This was the most Harry had managed to get out of Snape in the time they had been living together, but still, he could not help but be disappointed as Snape returned his attention to the book he was obviously not reading. Harry had been trying his best to engage Snape in conversation since he had arrived at Twelve Grimmauld Place. They weren’t alone together very often, and on the small number of occasions when they had been, it had been the middle of the night and Harry had struggled to keep his eyes open. After half an hour of staring, Harry tried again. 

‘I can tell you’re not actually reading that.’ Harry said, gesturing to Snape’s book. 

‘And how is it that you have deduced this, Mr Potter.’ Snape asked, his voice sounding somewhat exasperated. ‘Have you suddenly become so advanced at Legilimency that you have entered my mind without my knowledge?’ 

‘You haven’t turned a page in the entire time I’ve been sat here.’ Harry said, smirking up at Snape, who had finally averted his gaze from the book. 

‘Hmm.’ He said, his eyes flickering over Harry’s face. ‘Is there a reason you have been staring at me so avidly that you have been able to discern this fact?’ He asked, his voice rumbling slightly in his chest. 

‘Not particularly.’ Harry said, but his voice was slow and measured, and his eyes did not leave Snape’s. 

Snape stood up suddenly, placing the book down on a coffee table, and closed the small gap between himself and where Harry was sitting. 

‘Do not labour under the misapprehension that I have not noticed, Mr Potter.’ He said, his body intoxicatingly close to Harry’s. But before he had even had time to process what Snape was saying, he had swept from the room, leaving Harry confused and hardening inside his trousers. 

-

The next evening when Harry entered the library Snape was already there, his face buried in a book, but to Harry’s amazement he was sitting not in his usual armchair by the fire, but on the sofa. Before he could second guess himself, Harry sat down at the other end, staring at Snape out of the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction, but he did not move a muscle.

It was past two before all the other members of the order had left the room and Snape and Harry were alone. Neither spoke, but Harry lifted his legs from the floor and brought them up onto the sofa so that his feet were just grazing the edge of Snape’s leg. 

‘Still not sleeping?’ Snape asked several moments later, and there was just a hint of concern in his voice. 

‘No point.’ Harry said, turning so that he was facing Snape. ‘I see you aren’t either.’ 

‘No point.’ Snape said softly. 

‘Why can’t you sleep?’ Harry asked moments later when the silence had fallen around them, hoping he was not going to regret asking. He could never tell how far he was able to push Snape before he closed off again, but, to Harry’s amazement, Snape sighed. Then he turned to face Harry and said, 

‘I would imagine for the same reason you cannot sleep, Mr Potter. I have far too many regrets in my life.’ 

‘Yeah.’ Harry replied numbly, his eyes falling to stare at the floor. Seeing this side to Snape made him want to press into the man, to be close to him. There was something about Snape’s presence that radiated calm to him (which was bizarre given how many times Harry had witnessed Snape’s short temper in his potions lessons at school), but it was something in the way that Snape seemed to understand what was going on his mind far better than anyone else he had ever met. And unlike anyone else, Snape too understood what it was like to be a pawn in this war and he had suffered for it just as much as Had done. ‘Far too many people have died for me for me to be able to sleep without seeing all their faces.’ He continued, pausing. ‘I dream about the graveyard a lot.’ He admitted. 

Snape sighed, a hand coming to rest on the bottom of Harry’s calf. It was warm, (it surprised him still, even after coming to know Snape, that someone like him could be so warm), and there was something so comforting in it lying there that Harry radiated in it. ‘You were not responsible for the graveyard, Harry.’ Snape said, his gaze not leaving Harry’s face. 

Harry started slightly at the use of his first name, a warmth blooming in his chest and he was unable to stop himself smiling slightly up at Snape, shifting his body tentatively so that his legs were draped over the older man’s lap as he did so. 

‘What are you smiling about, Potter?’ Snape asked, his voice almost returning to the sneer Harry was so used to. 

‘You’ve never called me Harry before.’ He said simply. 

Snape let out a long breath, his head bowing as he pressed two fingers into the space between his dark eyebrows. ‘Don’t get used to it.’ He said gruffly. 

‘It’s not your fault either.’ Harry said softly after the silence had settled again.

‘And how have you come to that conclusion.’ Snape snapped, his eyebrows raised as if preparing for an argument. 

‘I know you’re a good man, I’ve seen inside your mind. You might not have made the best decisions in the past, but I know you’ve never truly meant to hurt anyone.’ Harry said, inching still further towards Severus, his own hands now resting on top of his. 

‘I think.’ Severus replied, ‘that most people would believe becoming a Death Eater was a slightly more serious error than ‘not the best decision’.’ 

‘Probably,’ Harry admitted, ‘but I was trying to make you feel better.’ 

Snape scoffed, letting a puff of air escape his lips, and Harry was so close that he felt it, hot on his face. He felt as if Severus’ breath was pulling him in, dragging itself from the pit of his lungs and drawing him to him and Harry moved yet closer, their lips so close he was sure he could brush his own quite easily over Severus’ if only he had the gall. He dragged his eyes up to look directly into Severus’ and saw Severus’ own eyes flick down towards his lips before he leaned yet closer to Harry and pressed his mouth firmly over his. At the touch, something surged in Harry’s chest that was so warm, so burningly hot that it was almost painful. He felt Snape’s arms come around his back, lifting him so that he was straddling his lap and Harry pressed in closer to Snape, his arms coming around his neck, one hand lacing through his hair (unimaginably soft, how was it possible for someone with edges as harsh as Snape to have hair this soft?). 

As Snape’s tongue slipped into his mouth, Harry moaned, his hips rocking on Snape’ lap as he tried to grind into him. He could feel his own erection tight against his trousers, and he was pretty sure a corresponding hardness was coming up in Snape. He tried to move his hands down to cup Snape through his trousers, but the older man pulled away, his breath hot and heavy on Harry’s face. Harry pressed his forehead to Snape’s, feeling such a desperately strong pull not to be any further from his lips, from his breath, that he could barely move, his own haggard breathing coming to match the pace of Snape’s. 

After a moment Snape sighed, gently pushing Harry from his lap. 

‘Goodnight, Harry.’ He said, standing to leave, and for the second night in a row Harry was left in the library, very confused, and very, very erect. 

-

Several nights later Harry had gone to bed early, his eyes itching so much from tiredness that he couldn’t even wait long enough in the library for the others to leave so that he could be alone with Snape as he had done ever since Snape had kissed him. It was just after three in the morning when he woke, a strangled scream escaping him as his fists grasped for something to hold on to, finding his sweaty sheets in the darkness. As Harry tried to slow his uneven breathing, forcing his eyes open so he could see only what was in the room, and not the horrors of his mind, all he could think of was how desperately he wanted to wake up from a nightmare, just once, and not have to soothe himself back to sanity. To have someone who could calm him, who cared about him. Someone who would make the bed less cold, for even his thick duvet was doing nothing for his shivering. Someone who would stop him feeling so achingly lonely that he felt it in the pit of his stomach. 

Harry had never had someone he could call his. He had had crushes, yes. Flirtations even. But the silly goings on of a school boy (even one like him) did not warm him at night. Not when he had never felt anything deeper than mild attraction to Cho, and mere brotherly love at best to Ginny. And now here he was, mere months away from a battle that could be his last, worrying about the fact that he had never felt the heat of another’s heart beating against his own. It was ridiculous, really, to think of things as banal as this when there was a war on, when people outside were falling every day, but all Harry could think of after waking from a nightmare and feeling the coolness of the sheets beside him was that he would do anything to overcome the aching loneliness of being nineteen and alone in bed, with no concept of anything different, and none likely to come. But, he decided (as he talked himself up to probably the most stupid action of his life), it was because of the war, and because of the death that it was this that he wanted the most. If there was a chance he was going to die in a few months he was damn well going to belong to somebody when it happened. 

And suddenly he wasn’t cold any more. Heat flushed through him, pulsing in his extremities and making his breath shake in his throat as he stepped out of bed and made his way down the hallway, shutting his bedroom door quietly behind him. The walk to the bedroom three doors down suddenly seemed much longer than when he had passed it on the way to his own earlier in the evening and he could feel his heartbeat pulse louder in his ears with each step that passed. His first knock on the door was so tentative it went unnoticed by its inhabitant. The second too loud to be polite and resonated uncomfortably in Harry’s head. He had had something so eloquent planned, but all that he could speak when faced with Severus Snape, looking softer from sleep than Harry had thought was ever possible was ‘please’, as he practically fell through the threshold, Snape’s hands holding him firmly at the shoulder. 

‘Please, what, Mr Potter?’ He drawled, all sense of sleep and softness gone now, replaced with the stark presence that only he could elicit. 

‘Please, just once.’ Harry breathed, the air hot on Severus’ face. Harry’s mouth was less than an inch from his and it practically pulled the breath from Severus’ lungs. If he was at all fazed, he did not show it, pushing Harry’s trembling form back firmly against the wall, somehow managing to still look imposing in his silken pyjamas. 

‘If you want me to do something, Mr Potter, you are going to have to ask me outright, not flail around with words you do not know how to use.’ 

‘Please, I need to feel you inside me, just once.’ Harry’s lips brushed over Severus’ at the last and Severus swore that he could hear Harry moan desperately at the contact. 

Severus considered for a moment, before covering Harry’s body with his own and closing the gap between them, a low vibration escaping his throat at the moan this drew from Harry. He pushed Harry against the wall more firmly, gasping as the warm body pressed up against him began to squirm with desire, and tangled his fingers in Harry’s hair, more messy than usual he noted, unsure whether it was from sleep or wantonness. Harry’s hands grasped desperately at Severus’ back and he moaned again as Severus pulled him close, more gratified than he should have been as Harry straddled the leg he had slipped between his and writhed desperately against it.

Severus’s mouth left Harry’s just for a second, and Harry moaned at the loss. The sound shot right down to Severus’ groin, a deep possessiveness of the younger man rising up in him and he lowered his mouth to kiss along Harry’s jaw wetly, before delving lower and sucking on the tender point just below Harry’s ear. Severus felt his own arousal grow yet stronger, and his prick strained uncomfortably against his pyjama trousers as Harry began to lose himself, his hips grinding against Severus’ leg. The blurred moans coming from Harry’s mouth, the desperate pleas he was whispering directly into Severus’ ear so close that he could feel Harry’s hot shuddering breaths on his skin were enough to make him ache more than he had ever felt. He lifted his lips yet again and pulled away from Harry, for however much Harry begged, Severus would not take him against the bedroom door.

Harry whined again, the English language so seemingly lost to him, and Severus snorted derisively, his breath brushing at Harry’s cheek. 

‘Not quite yet, Mr Potter.’ He murmured, guiding Harry towards the bed. Once sat down, Harry’s mouth came back to his own with such harshness that it almost knocked the breath from his lungs. There was no technique to Harry’s kisses, all clumsy teeth and languid tongue movements, but Severus found that there was so much fervour in it that he didn’t mind. Severus’ hands reluctantly untangled themselves from Harry’s hair to tease under Harry’s pyjama shirt, and Harry convulsed involuntarily as Severus raked a nail over his nipple. 

Harry divested himself of his t-shirt quickly and clumsily between wet kisses and barely audible murmurs of ‘more, please Severus, more.’ Severus pushed Harry down onto his back, pinning his arms down possessively as he quickly removed his own pyjamas and then pulled Harry’s pyjama trousers down over his ankles. When he turned back to press his body over Harry, there was something in his eyes that made him hesitate, just for a moment. 

‘You have not done this before.’ He stated, for he was sure Harry would never freely admit to something like this of his own volition. 

‘No.’ Harry replied, practically a whisper. ‘But I want to, so much. I need to feel you, please.’ 

‘I am not denying you, Harry.’ Severus replied, noting with slight contempt and a little more than regret at his past self how the use of Harry’s first name sends a whole host of emotions playing across the young man’s face. He stroked a tentative finger down Harry’s cheek, feeling him breathe out against him. ‘I will be gentle.’ Severus said, simply, wondering who it was who had overtaken his body with the need to care for Harry Potter. 

The heat hung heavy and low over them as Severus pressed his mouth back to Harry’s, and the kiss seared through Harry’s body, hot like fire roaring through his veins. Severus pressed one lubricated finger gently to the edge of Harry’s opening, kissing down his jaw, then his neck, he himself trembling slightly at the sound of Harry’s breaths jerking in his throat. Harry’s body convulsed as he pressed the finger inside slowly, and Severus brought his face back up to stare at Harry, murmuring ‘Alright?’ into his mouth as he kissed him firmly once again. 

The noise Harry made in reply was only amplified in its approval as Severus began to slide his finger in and out of Harry’s opening, and by the time Severus had added a second finger and had begun to scissor them outwards, Harry was so strung out on the bed that he was writhing at Severus’ touch, incomprehensibly mewling in pleasure as white heat surrounded him. Severus slid his fingers out gently and positioned himself at Harry’s entrance. 

‘Ready?’ He asked, and Harry nodded. Severus kissed him gently, encouragingly, as he slid in slowly, feeling Harry’s breath hitch in his throat at the stretch, and traced a soft hand down his side. Once Severus was sure that Harry had settled he began to thrust himself in and out, slowly at first, panting into Harry’s mouth at the feeling of being so surrounded by wet heat, but after several thrusts he began to lose himself, his pace picking up as he pushed himself in hard and fast. Harry growled and bucked back against him when he first found the nub inside him, and as Severus brought his hand to surround Harry’s prick, hot and slick with pre come against his hand, stroking up and down firmly, hitting the nub every second or third time he slid in to him, Harry became nothing more than his heavy breathing and the heady pleasure he felt from Severus’ mouth, Severus’ hand, Severus’ prick. Harry moaned Severus’ name over and over again against his mouth as he came, warm and wet over his hand, spurting over both of their stomachs, clenching around Severus inside him as he did, and Severus finally lost himself fully, moaning loudly into Harry’s mouth as he pushed in one final time and filled him, his mind burning with the thought of only Harry. 

When he pulled himself out moments later Harry keened towards him, feeling the barren emptiness and Severus scoffed softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and wrapping an arm around Harry’s back so he curled into him, his head resting over his thumping heart-beat. 

When Harry settled as if to sleep, Severus raised his eyebrows. 

‘Staying, Mr Potter?’ He asked wryly. 

‘Please.’ Harry whispered into Severus’ neck, his breath hot against his skin. 

Severus grumbled, but he did not make any attempt to remove Harry from his bed. Seemingly resigned to his fate, he drew the covers up around them. 

‘Thank you.’ Harry mumbled into Severus’ chest as he fell to the brink of sleep, pressing himself closer to Severus’ warm body, and Severus laughed slightly again at the ridiculousness of it all, running a hand through Harry’s hair. 

He had not expected the boy saviour to be able to undo him in quite the way that he had. 

-

For a while, Harry was alright. His bed was still inordinately cold at night, but at least he had a tangible memory now of someone touching him tenderly. And in the moments late at night, after waking from yet another nightmare Harry clung to the thought of Snape’s hands tracing his sides softly, and his warm mouth pressing down against his own. 

Two weeks later, he appeared again at Snape’s door, and although he himself had not foreseen this, Snape did not look surprised to see his figure in the darkness of his doorway. 

‘Again, Potter?’ He asked, although his tone was the same level of soft it had been before he had slipped into him last time. 

Harry nodded, unable, once again, now that he was here, to form any kind of sentence explaining why it was that he needed this. Why he came to Snape in the middle of the night for touch and comfort instead of any of his more age appropriate friends. Why he needed Snape to elicit in him a desire so burning that, just for a while, he could forget that he was hauled up in a house, a hostage to his own cause, waiting to be pushed out at the final battle like a prize weapon where he would, most probably, die. 

Snape pressed his mouth over Harry’s, more gentle this time than the last, a hand snaking around behind him to press into the small of his back and draw him close. 

When Harry came, slick and shuddering against Severus later there was no question as to whether he would be staying the night in Severus’ bed. Severus merely sighed, drawing Harry into his side, a hand resting in his hair (soft beneath his fingers, far softer than he had expected it). 

After that, Harry’s visits were far more frequent and soon they had become practically a nightly occurrence. He did not always come for sex, and sometimes Harry would simply crawl into bed next to Severus, barely waking the man as he curled around him and stilled. 

-

Upon the rare occurrence that his days were not filled by Moody barking battle orders at him, Harry would sit in the back garden and watch, silently. Before he had been told he would not be able to leave the house it hadn’t occurred to him how much he needed to be outside to truly breathe. He had never had a lack of outside space before: the Hogwarts Grounds were absurdly large, and he had never wanted for more time in the Dursley’s garden, seeing as they viewed him as a sort of unpaid gardener amongst other things. But now, stuck for several months in the same house he had never been more grateful that the wards extended far back to an expansive (for London, at any rate) garden. It was unkempt – Sirius had not been an avid gardener and Harry did not blame him, but there was something about the way the wildflowers blossomed that created an equal bloom of warmth in his own chest. Out here it was as if the war did not exist. Here he could forget the very real chance that he could be dead in a few months, or weeks he thought. And here he could forget that even if he didn’t die, he would probably end up a murderer, and he wasn’t sure which was worse. He sometimes wished he could stay out here forever – or at least until the war was over and the need for him to be a sacrificial weapon had passed. 

‘Would you mind if I joined you?’

Harry was jolted out of his thoughts by Snape’s arrival. Usually no one came out to the garden at all, knowing Harry liked to be alone, but he didn’t mind Snape. He was, however, surprised to see the man, who he struggled to envision, despite having spent quite a lot of time in his bed recently, outside of a dungeon, in the garden, surrounded by flowers, especially since Snape was wearing full, thick, black robes which pooled around him as he sat down gracefully next to Harry on the ground. 

They sat in companionable silence for a while and Harry decided that he liked being able to sit with someone like this. With Ginny, he had always felt a compulsive need to fill the silences they had had with inane nothingness to avoid the shrieking loudness of it. But with Snape, silence just felt warm and comforting. 

‘After the war I’m going to live somewhere with a garden like this.’ Harry said, edging slightly closer to Snape so that their legs touched. 

‘I would be inclined to agree with you, Mr Potter.’ Snape sidestepped the glaring fact that it was very possible there would be no after the war for either of them. ‘You would not live here then?’ He asked.

‘No. Definitely not. I’ve spent far too much time in this house. And there’s no way I want to spend the any more time than necessary being reminded of the war.’ Harry did not add too that the house reminded him of Sirius, and that he did not want to spend his whole life feeling sad at the loss of yet another family member. ‘I don’t want to live in London. It’s too cramped, too noisy. And anyway, after the war I want to be as far away from the journalists as is physically possible. I think I’d like to live somewhere green. In the north, maybe. Somewhere expansive and miles away from everywhere else.’ 

-

A month before the final battle, Severus woke abruptly to a flailing leg kicking hard against his shin. He shot up immediately, as if expecting attackers to be closing in on him from all sides. There was a moment of calm in him when he realised it was merely Harry, who had slipped into his bed unnoticed several hours earlier, writhing and tangled in the bedsheets next to him, but horror shot though him just as quickly as relief had when he saw his face, contorted with pain, and his scar, red raw and raised against his forehead. 

‘Harry.’ He said, shaking his shoulder with a firm, grounding hand, but Harry did not respond. Severus attempted to rouse him several more times, his sense of urgency increasing with each, but Harry was unwakeable, obviously in the throes of not a nightmare, but a vision. 

Severus scrunched up his face in trepidation, his fingers pressing into the bridge of his nose. Harry would not thank him for what he was about to do. But do it he must. 

Severus bent over Harry’s writhing form and stoked an errant bit of fringe out of his eyes tenderly. ‘Legilimens’ he whispered. 

The pain in Harry’s mind was so deep that it tore at him, but he latched onto Harry’s consciousness and pulled him out of the vision. Not, however, before he had seen much more of Harry’s mind than he knew Harry would have wanted him to see. Cold memories of Harry’s loneliness as a child, locked in a darkened cupboard alive with fear lined the walls of his mind. Harry, older now and locked in a room with bars at his window, weak from hunger, and frozen inside for lack of love. And the smack of pure, unbridled hatred for the man Snape knew was his uncle, who towered over him again and again shouting the same words that echoed so strongly around Harry’s mind. ‘Freak, pathetic, lazy, useless.’ 

Harry came back to consciousness with a start, shaking violently from having his mind invaded not just by Voldemort, but by Snape as well, and he lashed out, his arms still thrashing, catching Severus squarely on the jaw. Realising what Snape had done he scrambled out of the bed, backing towards the wall and pushing himself against it in an attempt to ground himself, his breathing heavy and uneven. 

‘What the fuck were you doing?’ He shouted at Snape, his eyes ablaze with horror and fear. Snape too was standing now, on the other side of the bed, his shoulders hunched defensively. 

‘Harry, there was nothing else I could do. I could not allow you to stay in that vision. The Dark Lord, he cannot have this access to your mind, it is too dangerous, not just for you, but for everyone in the order if he were to find out where we were in hiding.’ Snape explained, slowly, but firmly, as if talking to a child. Or an idiot, Harry thought. 

‘What –‘ Harry cried again ‘- the only way was to force your way into my mind, against my will? How does that make you any better than Him then? Answer me that, Snape?’ He spat Severus’ name across the room, suddenly feeling a torrid hatred for the man stronger than he had ever felt before. ‘What the fuck made you think you could do that’ he shouted again, before Snape, who had fallen into a stunned silence, could answer, but Harry was flagging now, the anger and fear and sorrow he felt at his childhood memories reawakened bubbling to the surface and he slumped slightly, his chin falling to his chest and his arms sagging at his sides. 

‘Perhaps,’ Snape snarled, his voice dangerously low, ‘if you had paid more attention in your Occlumency lessons, I would not need to pull you out of visions, because the Dark Lord would not be able to access your mind. Or perhaps you enjoy giving him unrestricted access to this information?’ He had stepped towards Harry, his black eyes thunderous. 

‘My memories are private.’ Harry spat out quietly, his voice jerking at each consonant. ‘You had no right, none.’ And before Severus could formulate a response Harry had stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him, the room shaking around the door frame in his wake. 

-

Harry did not look at Snape after that night, let alone talk to him. The air that hung between them was heavy and if Harry’s eyes did occasionally fall upon his own, they sparked alight with rage and fury. 

And so Harry was, once more, alone in his bed and achingly lonely, unable to call upon the memories of warmth and touch without feeling them mingled with the bitter taste of regret and fury. But as the nights grew colder, his nightmares increased, although thankfully his visions had not returned since Snape (and he was Snape, Harry forcibly reminded himself, not Severus. He had never been Severus) had dragged him back up from the depths of his mind. And Harry would wake each night covered by a sheen of sweat and shaking, while his breath heaved and rattled inside his heavy lungs. He would think then (though he hated himself for it) of Severus’ warm arms wrapped around him, grounding him, Severus’ hot breath settling on his neck, and the steady beat of Severus’ heart as he laid his head on his chest. 

A little more than two weeks had passed when Harry woke up from a nightmare, a silent scream ripping through his body, that was somehow so much worse than what usually came from within his mind. He closed his eyes again briefly, trying to concentrate on bringing his haggard breathing back to something resembling normal, and jerked them back open immediately to avoid the barrage of images that had flashed through his head. Cedric’s body lying greying on the ground, his eyes staring glassily up at Harry, his mouth still open as if he had been halted in the middle of a sentence. To accuse him, the voice in Harry’s mind leered. It was your fault, after all, Potter. Harry let out a broken whimper, balling his fists around his duvet, trying and failing to stop his shaking. But everything had just seemed so much more tangible than usual. He could feel the harsh wind that had blown through the graveyard, taste the thick smoke that had risen from the cauldron. A huge, involuntary shudder came up in Harry, and he vomited violently over the edge of the bed. 

And then, with tears pricking at the edges of his eyes from harshness of his sickness, he heaved his trembling body out of his bed and padded gingerly down the hallway to Severus’ bedroom. 

He wondered briefly whether the man would have warded his bedroom against him now, but relief stilled his shaking body marginally when the door pushed open at his touch, and he felt the clear, heady smell of Severus enter his lungs, and the calm of Severus’ magic wash over him. 

Harry stepped over the threshold, lingering in the doorway gingerly, unsure of what to do now that he was actually here. At the sound of the door closing against it hinge, the body in the bed jolted awake and Harry pressed himself backwards, his earlier fear spiking in him again as Severus sat bolt upright and jumped out of bed. 

‘Mr Potter?’ He questioned, his voice alarmingly alert for someone who had been asleep seconds ago. 

Harry looked across the dark room at him, his eyes wide and bloodshot and his breathing still wracking through him.

‘I’m sorry – I’m sorry about what I said.’ His voice was quiet and trembling and he couldn’t quite bring himself to look up into Snape’s black eyes, his gaze instead remaining resolutely at floor level. ‘I - I need you Severus.’ He practically whispered this last, still not looking up, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. 

The silence that stretched between them rang in Harry’s ears so loudly he scrunched his eyes shut, unsure why he had ever believed this would be a good idea. 

Snape sighed, finally, cutting through the heavy atmosphere. 

‘Come here, Harry.’ He said, his voice low and weary. 

Harry walked towards Severus slowly, his eyes still not quite meeting the older man’s. Once he was close, Severus placed a finger softly under Harry’s chin and tilted his face up to look at him.

‘I’m sorry too, Harry. I did not mean to invade your privacy, nor did I wish to make you feel that it was your own fault. Your mind is not well suited to Occlumency.’ Severus admitted. 

‘I know.’ Harry said, his voice still barely more than a whisper. ‘I was more angry with my Aunt and Uncle than I was with you, I think, I just, they weren’t here, and you were.’ 

‘It does not matter. I was just as much, if not more to blame than you were.’ Severus assured him, stepping closer to bridge the gap between them, pulling Harry into his arms and pressing a tender kiss to his hairline as Harry buried his face in the warm folds of Severus’ nightshirt. 

‘You’re shaking.’ Severus said, his voice soft. Harry felt the words rumble in Severus’ chest and he scrunched his eyes closed tighter, pressing himself closer to the warmth. ‘Why are you shaking, Harry?’ 

‘Nightmare.’ Harry mumbled into Severus’ chest, not lifting his head. 

Severus hummed in response, moving a hand up to stroke through Harry’s hair. 

They stood, Severus’ arms wrapped protectively around Harry for some time, until Harry’s shaking had mostly stilled and he removed his face from its place pressed up against Severus to smile softly at him.

‘Thank you.’ He whispered. 

Severus took his hand and guided Harry gently to the bed, pulling the covers around them both, and scoffed at himself as the thought that his bed was so much warmer with Harry in it entered his mind. Harry curled around him, his warmth seeping into Severus, weaving a leg between his and lying his head against his chest. 

‘I am sorry about your family, Harry.’ Severus said softly to the man who was now half asleep at his side, a small voice inside of him wondering why on God’s earth he was telling the young man this. 

‘S’alright.’ Harry mumbled, his voice blurred by sleep, but his body still trembling slightly. ‘I never knew any different, doesn’t really matter. They never did anything really bad.’ 

‘It was bad enough.’ Severus snarled, his anger not directed at Harry. 

‘No worse than yours was.’

Severus did not reply to this, but instead weaved a hand once again through Harry’s hair, making circles on his scalp with his fingers. 

And suddenly Harry’s body was twisting, a desperate, almost helpless need in his eyes as he turned to face Severus, his lips coming down messily over the older man’s in the darkness. 

Severus wound his arms around Harry more tightly, pulling him so close that he could feel the erratic rise and fall of Harry’s chest as he kissed Severus feverishly. And when Severus pulled away from Harry’s mouth, beginning to leave a trail of burning kisses down the side of his neck, Harry whined with the loss so loudly that Severus wondered whether perhaps he should have put a soundproofing charm on the room. 

‘Are you going to be good for me, Harry?’ He asked, his voice low and vibrating against the skin of Harry’s neck. He wasn’t quite sure what had made him say it, but something about the burning need to protect Harry, to soothe him, had risen inside him and the words had fallen out.

Harry’s moaning ceased at this, but he bucked his hips up to try and brush himself against Severus, a half-strangled moan of frustration escaping his lips as he failed to do so, his fingers coming to grab desperately at the skin on Severus’ back. ‘Yes.’ Harry keened, his voice heady with breath. ‘Yes, I want to be good.’ 

‘Alright.’ Severus said, his voice black and silken, his breath hot against Harry’s neck, and he began sucking on Harry’s collarbone, his hand coming down to trace gently up and down Harry’s thighs, never quite reaching his cock which was now straining upwards. Harry bucked upwards again and Severus pulled his mouth away, raising his head to look Harry directly in the eye. ‘You’re being good, remember?’, and Harry nodded, his hips stilling and Severus resumed his exploration of Harry’s body, murmuring ‘Good boy’, as he kissed down Harry’s chest and Harry moaned again, writhing on the bed as Severus held his hips down firmly. 

When Severus took Harry’s pulsing cock in his mouth Harry gave a strained scream, his hands gripping in Severus’s hair harshly. After passing the tight wetness of his mouth over Harry’s shaft a few times, he let it fall from his mouth, murmuring ‘Good boy’ again in a gentle voice as he began to lap at Harry’s balls, his hand passing smoothly over his cock. Finally, whilst Harry whimpered and writhed on the sheets, Severus took Harry’s cock back into the searing heat of his mouth, his hand still cupping his balls, running his tongue and mouth over Harry’s shaft until he came, trembling, in Severus’ mouth. 

After a moment, Severus let Harry’s spent cock fall from his mouth, coming back up to lie next to Harry, gathering the still shaking man in his arms and allowing him to rest his head in its usual place on his chest. 

‘You were a very good boy for me, Harry’ he whispered into Harry’s ear, so quiet it was barely audible, but Harry seemed to press closer to him, an arm wrapping tightly around Severus’ waist. 

‘I like it when you call me that.’ Harry said after a moment, his voice soft, as if this was not the sort of thing he liked to admit. 

‘When I call you what?’ 

‘You know what.’ Harry mumbled, and he felt Severus’ laugh vibrate through his chest.

‘I do.’ He admitted, running his fingers through Harry’s hair absent-mindedly, ‘But I should like to hear you say it all the same.’ 

‘I like it when you call me a good boy. I don’t know why; it just makes me feel safe I guess. Protected.’ He said, twisting slightly so he could look up at Severus. ‘No one’s ever called me that before.’ He admitted quietly. 

‘Then,’ Severus said, pulling Harry closer into his side, ‘it is quite understandable that you should like it.’ 

‘I guess so.’ Harry said, his breathing slowing and his eyes fluttering shut. Severus brought a hand up to rest on the nape of Harry’s neck, his fingers moving slowly to weave in and out of his hair, lulling him to sleep. He gazed at Harry then, as his body rose and fell in time with his own, an unfamiliar tenderness blooming in his chest and he raised his eyebrows at himself, appalled by his own sentimentality. 

-

When Harry woke, he was alone in the bed. Severus was probably up brewing, he thought, but he didn’t usually get up quite this early, nor did he usually leave without waking Harry. By now, morning light was streaming in through the partially open curtains, so Harry dragged himself out the bed, still feeling groggy from the night before, and a slight unease resting at the base of stomach. He could not explain why, but it felt as if something was off.

He sat down at the kitchen table, resting his elbows on the grain and slumping slightly. It was still early and for the moment he was alone, apart from Mrs Weasley, who was commanding a mass of pots and pans on the old cooker. 

‘Did you sleep well, dear?’ She asked, turning to smile at Harry. ‘The others aren’t up yet – I’m sure Ron would sleep all day if I let him you know.’ She said, tutting slightly at her youngest son’s behaviour. 

‘Yes, thanks.’ He said. ‘Mrs Weasley, have you seen Se-Professor Snape this morning?’ He and Severus weren’t exactly hiding what they were doing, but at the same time, he knew the man would not appreciate Harry allowing people speculate about them. And, perhaps more importantly, he absolutely knew that Mrs Weasley would not approve of what they were doing, nor would any of his friends. Even though Harry was well of age by now, Severus had still been his teacher, was still twenty years older than him, and, as far as his friends were concerned at least, was still a greasy git.

‘Oh, not this morning, dear. He left very early. Had a mission, Moody said. He was gone bef-‘

‘What kind of mission?’ Harry interrupted, suddenly sitting up very straight. ‘Where did he go?’ 

‘I’m sure I don’t know, dear. Why? Do you need him for something this morning? I’m sure I’d be able to help you with it, whatever it is.’ 

‘No, no, don’t worry about it.’ Harry mumbled, his hands clenching around the soft cotton of his pyjama bottoms. What if Snape got hurt on whatever this ‘mission’ was. Or worse, what if he died? And why hadn’t he bothered to wake Harry to tell him where he was going? Harry got up abruptly from the table with the intention of finding Moody and questioning him about it, and set towards the door, ignoring Mrs Weasley’s pleas that he hadn’t yet had any breakfast, mumbling something about not being hungry. 

Moody was no more forthcoming than Mrs Weasley had been, although Harry was certain he knew exactly what Snape was doing. But Harry knew he couldn’t press too hard without having a legitimate reason for suddenly becoming so interested in Snape’s whereabouts. He stared worriedly out of his bedroom window: it was pouring outside and rain was lashing against the window, which rattled in its frame as wind howled around the walls. It was far too wet to be outside; even with an Impervius he would get soaked, but he didn’t much feel like doing anything when his mind couldn’t occupy anything but worry for Snape, and the slight confusion about why the whole thing was bothering him so much. 

Eventually, Harry fell asleep, his face sliding down the cool glass of the window, his glasses askew on his face. 

In his mind, a scene began to unfold. In a large, darkened room, two men stood, encircled by a dozen others, wearing black hooded cloaks. 

_‘On your knees, Severus.’ The tall thin man in the centre said in a high pitched snarl. And fall Snape did._

_‘Why,’ Voldemort asked in his piercing voice, ‘when I last entered the mind of Harry Potter did I find you there, Severus.’_

_‘My Lord,’ Severus replied, his voice low and unwavering. ‘You know that for the Order of the Phoenix I must- ‘_

_‘Silence’ roared the Dark Lord, his face contorting in anger. ‘Do not lie to me, Severus.’ He spat the man’s name out as if it were something worthy of great disgust. ‘Do you really think I have not known for a significant amount of time where your loyalties truly lie?’_

_‘My Lord, I-‘_

_But Snape did not get the chance to continue, for Voldemort had shouted ‘Crucio’, pointing his wand at the man who kneeled at his feet, and Snape had crumpled, writhing in pain and screaming._

_‘I think we shall make your death long, Severus.’ He drawled. ‘Yes, very long, and very painful.’_

‘Harry’ 

Someone was shouting his name and Harry jerked back into reality, practically falling off his chair as he did so, his scar burning furiously. 

‘Harry,’ Hermione said again. ‘Harry you were screaming, are you alright?’

Harry clutched at his scar, hissing in pain. ‘It’s Snape.’ Harry gasped, grabbing at the wrist of Hermione’s jumper. ‘Oh God, he’s got Snape and he knows. He’s going to kill him, Hermione.’ 

By now, several other members of the Order had entered Harry’s room and they were all staring at him incredulously. Then, Moody grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he did so. He dragged Harry, who was still doubled over in pain, to the library and shoved him unceremoniously in the direction of a chair. 

‘What did you see, Potter?’ Moody barked, his real eye staring intensely at Harry. 

And so, Harry explained about the darkened room, and Voldemort sentencing Severus to death in a circle of death eaters. 

‘Hmm.’ Said Moody when Harry had finished, leaning back against his chair, his chin resting against a gnarled hand. This was not the reaction Harry had been expecting. Didn’t anyone else realise that Snape was dying? Didn’t anyone else care? 

Sensing Harry’s confusion, Moody continued, ‘Potter, Professor Snape was quite well aware that this might happen, as were the other members of the Order. He went in prepared.’

‘He didn’t look very prepared to me.’ Harry snarled, worry rising up in him again. ‘So that’s it then? We’re not going to do anything. We’re just going to let him die?’ Harry’s voice got higher and more tense with each sentence. 

‘Potter there is nothing we can do. We don’t know where he was called to. And even if we did it would be very unlikely we could get passed the wards. But we are certainly not just leaving him to die. Did you not listen to me, boy? Professor Snape went in prepared. He knows how to get out.’ Moody clarified, although Harry did not find the sentiment particularly calming – he could still hear Severus’ screams echo around the walls of his mind. 

‘Well if he’s so prepared, then why can’t you tell me what it is he’s done?’ Harry shouted. 

‘You don’t need to know, Potter.’ Moody said simply, moving to limp out of the room, his stick clicking loudly on the wooden floor. 

Harry was not appeased by this, but there was not much he could do: he didn’t want to arouse suspicion by questioning Moody again, so he remained in the library, sitting bolt upright in the armchair he had been shoved into by Moody, while his mind raced through all the possible ways Voldemort could be killing Severus, and barely hoping that Moody was right, and that Severus knew exactly what he was doing. 

-

It was nightfall now, and, after siting through an uncomfortable dinner during which even Moody and Mrs Weasley had become worried about Snape’s whereabouts (although Ron had nudged Harry and said ‘whatever, serves him right, right?’, and Harry had laughed feebly, before staring back at his dinner plate), Harry was back in the library again, staring impassively at the tall shelves of books which lined the walls, his ears so inclined that he jumped at the slightest creak the old house made, hoping beyond hope that each was the sound of Severus returning. They never were. 

Several hours later Harry was awoken violently from the feverish sleep he had finally fallen into by a thumping and crashing coming from the kitchen. He hurriedly picked himself out of the chair and ran, practically tripping down the stairs to the sound. By the time he got there, Moody and Lupin were already in the kitchen, crouched around a lump on the floor, swathed in black, which was rising and falling shallowly. 

Something shot through Harry and he fell back against the wall for support, his heart beating loudly in his ears. Severus was not dead, which was good, he supposed. But other than that, there was not much good that could be said of the situation. It seemed that when Snape had arrived (Harry could only assume by some kind of portkey) he had collapsed and was no longer conscious. His face and robes were smeared with blood and Harry blanched, noticing several deep gashes that were still flowing. 

Slowly, Snape began to stir and Moody and Lupin attempted to turn him over. Harry rushed forward to help, pressing Snape’s shoulders back down to the floor as he struggled against the three of them, his face contorted in agony. 

‘Severus, please, stop fighting.’ Came Lupin’s voice, calm amongst Severus’ hissing. 

But Severus did not make any attempt to stop trying to get out of their grasp. ‘Will you unhand me, wolf.’ He spat, glaring at Lupin. Somewhat resignedly, Lupin did so, his arms coming to rest limply at his sides. Moody had stopped trying to restrain him some time ago and had left the room, sensing he was unwelcome. Harry’s hand, however, remained steadily at Severus’ shoulder, and the man did not protest. Severus sighed tightly, using, Harry presumed, all the strength that remained in him to push himself into a sitting position against the wall. 

‘You may leave.’ He said in a voice far too calm and steady for one who was so badly injured. 

‘Severus, I really think that-‘ Lupin was cut off by a growl from Snape.

‘Get out.’ He snapped.

‘Will you be spending the night in the kitchen then, Severus?’ Replied Lupin, his voice colder than before. ‘I am sure that you would not be stupid enough to attempt the stairs in your current state.’ 

Snape sighed again and then said resignedly, ‘Mr Potter, you may stay,’ still glaring pointedly at Lupin, who got up and backed out of the room, his eyes fixed on Harry in confusion as he did so.

A heavy silence entered the room as the door clicked shut behind Lupin. Harry did not know what to say that would not anger Snape, so he too sighed, and sat back against the wall, his thigh just grazing against Severus’. 

Finally, he said, softly, ‘let me know if you want to go upstairs’, his gaze fixed firmly ahead. 

Snape hummed in response and Harry turned his head slightly to face him. Snape was sitting with his head now resting back against the wall, his mouth slightly open and his eyes closed, still breathing shallowly. As time passed, Harry moved his hand so that it rested comfortingly over Snape’s, leaning in closer. 

Finally, Snape opened his eyes and sat up a little straighter. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘it would be wise now if I retired to my room.’ 

Harry, who had fallen into a sort of stupor in the time that they had been sitting together, jumped up, almost tripping over Severus as he did so. 

‘You are so completely predictable.’ Snape sneered, although Harry couldn’t help but notice that his voice was still gravelly with pain. He reached a hand out to clasp around Snape’s waist and helped the man up, sagging slightly as Severus leaned heavily against him, his shallow breathing now more pronounced. Harry wrapped his arm more firmly around Severus’s waist and then pulled back as he hissed in pain. 

‘Sorry.’ He whispered, his hold looser now. 

‘You will tell no one of this, Potter.’ Snape growled. 

‘Don’t worry, the knowledge that you’re human is completely safe with me.’ 

Snape huffed at that, but allowed Harry to wrap his arm around him more firmly again, this time avoiding the open wound at his side, and guide him up the stairs. Snape was wincing in pain by the time they reached his bedroom, and breathed out heavily as Harry deposited him on the bed. Realising that Snape was not going to be up to much more moving, he quickly pulled Snape’s travelling cloak from around his shoulders and transfigured his clothes into soft pyjamas, before pulling the thick covers up around him. Meanwhile, Snape was rifling around in his bedside cabinet and swallowing down healing potion after healing potion, his hands still shaking slightly from the pain. As Snape lay down, his eyes closing again, Harry leaned forward over him and gently brushed the hair from his eyes, his heart swelling in his chest as Severus not only allowed the familiar movement, but leaned into it. 

‘Get some sleep.’ He whispered

‘Harry?’ The question came softly, just as Harry had turned to leave the room. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘You’re welcome.’ 

-

It took Snape several days to fully recover, and Harry spent most of that time (when he wasn’t sitting by Severus’ bedside watching him sleep, a concerned expression etched upon his face) in the garden. There was not much he could do beyond sitting and watching as the wind rustled gently through the wildflowers, but the sounds the leaves made as they brushed over one another calmed him. And he would rather be out here, his mind blank apart from the soft sounds of nature, than inside the house as the sounds of war rallied around him. Ever since Snape had been attacked, Voldemort’s ire had been rising. He obviously had not expected Severus to escape, and now that he had, the likelihood of Voldemort finding them all in 12 Grimmauld Place had increased tenfold. Moody was in a constant state of planning, jabbing his stubby fingers at strategy covered blackboards to anyone who would listen, but Harry could not take any of it. He knew what he had to do – he always had, and no amount of strategy was going to change the fact that he would be either murderer or murdered. 

Once he was out of bed, Severus slunk down to the garden unnoticed, sure that that was where Harry would be. He spotted the young man leaning against the bowed tree he always sat at, his eyes glazed over as he started out into the wild garden beyond, and sat down beside him. There was a chill in the air as the wind blew through the trees and Harry leaned into Severus’ side, drawing heat from him. 

‘Are you better?’ he asked, his eyes not leaving the flowers in front of him. 

‘Yes.’ Came the soft response. 

‘That’s good.’

‘Thinking about your garden again?’ Severus asked, covering Harry’s hand with his own now that there was no one around to see. After the events of Severus’ attack, and his abject refusal to let anyone but Harry attend to him, there was little doubt in the minds of most of the inhabitants of Twelve Grimmauld Place of who Harry went to at night, but Severus was not going to do anything to prove it if he could avoid it. 

Harry hummed in response, leaning his head to lie on Severus’ shoulder. ‘I can’t decide,’ he said, ‘whether my back bed should be blue or yellow. Or whether I should even have flowers in beds at all. Is that too restrictive? Maybe I should just let them grow wherever they see fit.’ 

Severus could not think what to say to that, so he did not respond. In the silence that followed, the question that had been bubbling at the top of Harry’s mind since Severus returned came forth before he could stop it. 

‘You knew, when you had entered my mind, that Voldemort would see what you had done. Would understand your true loyalties. Why didn’t you tell me?’ Harry had turned to face him now, removing his head from Severus’ shoulder. 

Severus sighed. ‘You did not need to know, Harry.’ 

‘I didn’t need to know?’ Harry had jumped to his feet, his tone incredulous. ‘Did it not occur to you for one second that I might worry about you when you just disappeared? That I might care whether you lived or died?’ Harry was shouting now, his gaze burning as he glared at Snape, who too was standing now, his arms folded protectively against his chest. 

‘Not everything is about you, you fool.’ Snape roared. 

‘Well then why did you bother going in my mind in the first place?’ Harry shouted. ‘Why not just leave it until Voldemort had finished with me? 

‘You know full well why.’

‘I don’t actually.’ Harry retorted. ‘If you were trying to stop Voldemort’s access to my mind because you were concerned he might find out where we were then shoving yourself into the mix was about the worst thing you could have done. We’re in no less danger now than we would have been if you had just left me.’ 

Snape merely glared at Harry, and turned to stalk away. 

‘Why does nothing you do make any sense?’ Harry roared. ‘You act like you need to save me constantly, but when I care about you suddenly it’s as if there was nothing ever between us. Why can’t you just accept that there obviously is?’ 

Harry was sure he had much more to say, but before he could think of it, Snape had stormed back towards him and pinned Harry to the tree, his hot mouth coming down over Harry’s, marking him with his tongue. 

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what this meant as a response, but Severus’ mouth was so hot, so wet over his own that he found the argument melting away under Severus’ tongue. It wasn’t that Severus hadn’t told him that was the problem really. Harry wasn’t sure what the problem was, but all he did know was that since Severus had got back, something uncomfortable had sat at the bottom of his stomach, wearing away at his insides and weighing him down. 

Eventually Severus’ hands came away from pushing Harry against the tree, relaxing instead around Harry’s waist, and he released his mouth, resting his forehead against Harry’s, his breath hot on Harry’s cheek. A pain suddenly crushed Harry’s veins as he realised what that particular feeling in the pit of his stomach was and he clenched his eyes shut, forcing back a primal wail, instead bringing his face down to bury it in Severus’ shoulder, breathing in his heady scent and trying to forget. To think only of Severus, but that was the whole problem. 

Severus seemed to sense Harry’s discomfort, holding him tighter against his body for a second before pulling back to look at the younger man. 

‘Harry?’ he asked, his voice soft. He had seen Harry look many ways in the almost decade that he had known him, but his face had never displayed this anguished blankness before. 

Harry’s fists clenched around the fabric of Severus’ cloak, his eyes dropping to the floor, unable to look at Severus. 

‘I don’t want to die.’ He mumbled, still averting his gaze. ‘I’m not ready to die and leave you when we’ve barely even started.’ He shifted his gaze to look up at Severus now, his eyes bloodshot and shining with unshed tears. ‘I’m not scared of dying, it’s just,’ and he paused, his breathing shallow as he tried to force back tears, ‘it’s just that I’m scared of missing everything. Soon enough every time I do something it’s another last time, and the things I don’t do, I never will.’ 

Severus did not know what to say to this, but pulled Harry close to him, wrapping his arms strongly around Harry’s back, the folds of his cloak resting gently over Harry’s shoulders so that he was awash with the man. The problem was that, even if Severus were the sort of man to whisper platitudes, there was nothing he could say that would soothe Harry. In all likelihood, the final battle would not end well for him and this was not something there was anything Severus could do about. 

-

It was only two weeks later that the time for Harry to finally leave twelve Grimmauld Place came. They had known for several days before it had happened, although no one, especially Harry, dared to talk about it. 

It was not until late into the last night, when darkness shrouded the cool walls of the house that Harry faced his reality. Severus was asleep, although fitfully, but Harry lay, his mind scrambling hopelessly around with the thought that he would probably be dead in twenty-four hours. 

His breath seemed hot and caught in his lungs as he pulled himself closer to Severus and wrapped his arms tightly around the older man’s waist. 

Severus stirred, wrapping his arms around Harry’s small body, encasing him, as he rolled and let his weight press softly on top of Harry, covering his body protectively. 

Harry leaned forward and kissed Severus, softly, deeply, desperately. There was so much need in Harry’s movements that Severus moaned unwittingly, pressing himself closer to Harry. Harry’s fingers were woven through his hair now and they barely moved, too tied to each other to even contemplate coming undone for a second. 

Severus’ fingers grazed delicately down Harry’s sides and the younger man shuddered involuntarily, pressing his face into Severus’ neck and moaning, biting down on the soft flesh, as Severus’ heavy cock rested against his thigh. One cool, slick finger pressed at Harry’s entrance and as it pushed past the hard ring of muscle Harry moaned loudly as pleasure, white hot and blinding, flashed before his eyes. He began to suck at the sensitive skin by Severus’s collar bone, smiling softly, a quiet sadness rising in him, as he felt Severus press a second finger inside him as a response. The world outside might be burning, but right here, right now, he had everything. This was the last time, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed every inch of himself to Severus. He wanted to crawl up inside him and stay, curled, just until his time was over. Until his life wasn’t needed as a bargaining tool. 

As Severus pulled his fingers out and thrust himself in, something changed. There was a wild look in his eyes and he pressed Harry’s shoulders into the softness of the mattress below. A desperation to feel everything so acutely, to touch every part of Harry’s body as if memorising it, his fingers rough and hard as they pressed into Harry’s skin, marking him. 

‘You’re mine.’ His voice was deep and rumbling next to Harry’s ear, his breath hot and almost damp against his skin, and Harry arched upwards desperate to rub his cock against Severus’ skin, panting. 

And when Severus came, Harry clung to him, releasing hot liquid over Severus’ stomach and fingers moments later and they both lay wrapped in each other gasping and desperate and shaking. 

‘I love you.’ Barely a whisper escaped Severus’ lips, but Harry had never heard anything louder. Severus’ forehead came to rest at the base of Harry’s neck, his breathing low and heavy, his arms trembling as they wrapped around him. And Harry screwed his eyes up so tight they burned, forcing a choked sob back down his throat. 

‘I love you too.’ 

Eventually, Severus rolled off Harry, who keened towards him at the loss of his warmth, entwining their legs together as he lay his head over Severus’ heart. 

‘I wish we could stay here forever.’ Harry said, his voice soft. ‘Everything is so horrible out there, but in here, this room, this place, with you, I can almost forget its happening, just for a second.’ 

‘You’re rambling, Potter.’ Severus replied, but his voice was gentle. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut just as Severus’ fingers came to rest in his hair. 

-

The soft half-light was spilling through the curtains when Severus awoke the next morning. Harry still slept, his head resting on Severus, his arms wrapped around him and Severus allowed himself to wish for just one more moment like this. Just one more night when he could hold Harry to him, feel the soft beat of his heart against his chest, the warm flutter of his breath. 

‘What are you dreaming about?’ he murmured as Harry’s eyes moved fitfully behind their closed lids. He replaced his hand in Harry’s hair and began to stroke gently. 

When Harry awoke they dressed silently, neither daring to voice that they both knew everything was over. 

-

Harry stood at the threshold of the front door, pulling his cloak around him. 

‘Be safe.’ The voice came from behind him and he turned to see Severus at the end of the hall, imposing as ever in flowing black robes. By the time Severus reached the door Harry felt as if his chest was going to implode again. 

‘Do not do anything foolish.’ Severus said, betraying a tenderness Harry could barely believe existed as his fingers brushed over Harry’s wrist. 

‘I’ll try.’ Harry replied. And then he left, apparating just off the final step of the porch, his hand still touching the place where Severus’ fingers had been seconds before.


	2. For Incense, Smoke of Battle Red

#### For incense, smoke of battle red

Harry had spent six days unconscious in St. Mungos following the end of the war. Neither he nor Snape had died, not that this had had any impact on their relationship. (Had it been a relationship, Harry wondered? Surely to him it had been the most impactful connection he had ever made.) Snape had been uncontactable after the war. All he did know was that Snape (not Severus, absolutely not Severus) had lingered in the hospital whilst he had been unconscious, had stayed long enough to see his eyes flutter open, only to disappear entirely afterwards.

When he had left the hospital and finally been left alone in Twelve Grimmauld Place by Ron, Hermione and Mrs Weasley (who had left enough food in his fridge to last several months), Harry had sat down at the worn desk in Sirius’ old bedroom, pulled out a piece of parchment and stared at it, his quill dripping ink onto the stained wood. What was it that he was supposed to say to Severus now that it was all over? 

‘Sorry you didn’t expect me to survive, neither did I, but I still love you’? Harry couldn’t bear to write something that cut into him so terribly. The idea that Severus had only been stringing him along because he expected him to die was a thought so painful that it felt as if someone had drawn a dull knife through the centre of his soul, and his skin burned and itched at it. 

Harry set the quill back down on the desk and trudged downstairs. Beyond that, he really did not know what he was supposed to say to Severus. Ever since he had woken up he hadn’t felt able to do anything more than sit and stare into nothingness. He pressed his face up against the window into the back garden, the cool glass numbing the skin on his cheek. It was winter now and the wild flowers drooped, covered with a layer of frost. It had been beautiful once, Harry thought, but all he could see now was suppression and death. He wasn’t supposed to have survived. Of course, he had dreamed about life after whilst he was living through war, but what did that mean? Those dreams had never had any kind of basis in a future reality. Not one that he had seen as coming true, at any rate.

What was one supposed to do with weapons after the war was over? He didn’t think anyone had thought that far ahead whilst the war had been on. It was probably assuemed that everything war related would simply cease to exist once Voldemort had been defeated. The weapons destroyed in the battle, and that was the whole problem – Harry had not been destroyed. And he didn’t fit in in this new, happy world. Not when all he could see when he closed his eyes were the faces of all those good people who should still be living. Who would still be living if he had been better at his job. If he had been faster, braver. If he had just told everyone to fuck it and gone to fight Voldemort months earlier. Years, maybe. 

Even more, he saw the fact that he had killed. That he was no better than Voldemort now, even if he was lauded as a hero. There were no heroes and villains, Harry had realised. Only killers, the dead, and those who were left behind. He was in storage he supposed, until the next war. Until he was needed again. But in the meantime, his mind was mouldering and festering until it turned to nothing. And his skin burned with hatred for himself, itched with the need to rip himself limb from limb so much he could barely breathe. 

It took him several days of staring at walls (at the hopeless frozen garden) thinking of nothing at all before he managed to pull his thoughts into anything coherent enough to attempt writing to Severus. He hadn’t moved from the armchair by the window for days. He knew he smelled, that he hadn’t changed out of his greying pyjamas for days or even attempted washing. That Molly Weasley’s mountain of food was still sitting in the fridge, barely picked at. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t do anything more than simply breathe and remember all that he had done wrong. 

_‘Dear Severus,’ he wrote._

_‘I’m glad you came to see me when I was in hospital. I wish you had stayed, I would have liked to have spoken to you. My mind is heaving in the way that only you can soothe. I’d like to see you again if you are willing. Let me know by return owl._

_Yours,_

_Harry’_

There was so much more that he felt. So much more that he wanted to say to him, but he knew Severus wouldn’t appreciate him indulging himself and letting loose all of his feelings – he would barely accept this much. And even if he would accept more, how could Harry put down into words the aching loneliness he had felt since the war had ended – that when he was in bed at night, barely sleeping he woke frozen, reaching for something that was no longer there. That his mind was a dark, swirling abyss, and if only Severus would come and be near him (Harry remembered how it was when Severus was near him – the cloak of his presence that fell over him that was woody and spiced and home) his mind might release him, even if only for a while. 

-

Three days later, the letter was returned, unopened. And perhaps if Harry was feeling more persistent, perhaps if it wasn’t all he could do to drag himself from the chair looking out onto the garden to his bedroom in the middle of the night when it was finally too cold for him to remain numb downstairs, Harry would have tried again. 

But he was not. And so, he did not. 

-

Harry’s friends were worried about him. He knew, because they had begun ‘popping round’ more and more frequently. Ron sat and talked at him, afraid and unable to leave the silences that Harry had become so accustomed to. Told him everything that was going on in the outside world that he was too afraid, too numb, to enter into. That he was a hero, a celebrity, if only he would come out and enjoy it. Harry was engaged long enough just to hear that awful Professor Snape had taken up his post as Potions Master at the school again, and that he was terrorising students even more than he used to. Hermione just looked sadly at him and tidied up around him, not knowing what to say. Harry didn’t really see the point. 

-

To their credit, Harry thought afterwards when it was all over and passed, they were very persistent. Two months had gone by and Harry had become sane enough to hold a mask over his broken mind. He still felt nothing more than numbness and horror at what he had become in the war, but he knew what people wanted from him, so he gave it to them. He sold Twelve Grimmauld Place and moved into a tiny terraced house in Canons Park. He joined the Auror programme and was fast-tracked straight into active duty – it was generally felt that it would be an insult to Harry to force him through training that was far less intense than what he had already experienced. Harry wouldn’t have minded. And, mostly numbingly to him of all, he began to date Ginny Weasley. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for Ginny – quite the contrary really. But his mind was so full of smoke and nothingness that he didn’t have room for anything else. They had barely lasted two months before she had grown tired of Harry’s blank stares, of the emptiness on his face as she screamed at him for not turning up to yet another dinner they had planned. But how could Harry explain to her that after coming home from yet another near death experience as an Auror, it was all he could bring himself to do to fall down into his armchair and stare numbly out of the window, not really looking at anything at all. He barely made it to his bedroom any more – what was the point when all he saw when he closed his eyes were the faces of the dead. 

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t enjoy being an Auror. In fact, he was really quite good at it. But the problem was that the reason he was so good at being an Auror was that he didn’t value his life nearly as much as he should. And every time Harry came out of yet another life-threatening situation he had haphazardly thrown himself into his superiors praised him beyond belief, and all Harry could think was how strange it was that he could run into these situations without thinking about it, because really, he didn’t mind that much if he lived or died. He had thought that coming out of the war alive would have meant that it was all over. That he would never be worried again, or feel hollowed out and empty inside because he knew that he was just an expendable weapon in an endless war. That he would finally be able to live a normal life. But it didn’t matter now, because all his mind was, was guilt. Guilt that he had lived when so many more innocent people had died because of him. Guilt for living when his dead were cold and their lives wasted. 

-

Harry was running, blood seeping thickly from the side of his head, his wand clenched in his right hand so hard he could feel the skin over his knuckles stretching until it was almost broken. His chest was heaving so heavily he could barely take in air and as he stopped behind a red brick wall he panted, his body sagging and almost giving way under him. Blackness was clouding the edges of his vision as tears flowed freely down his cheeks and the wounded sound of an animal threatened to spill out of his lungs. It was the height of summer and the air was heavy with heat and the promise of a storm unbroken. He pressed his palms against the wall, tearing his skin against its rough edges as his body sagged even lower. And then, Harry apparated, with only one thing on his mind: safety. He was barely conscious as he pushed himself up from the cold threadbare rug he had landed face down on. Stone, he realised threadbare carpet on stone. He pressed his hand to his bleeding head, trying to push down the ever-present feeling of burning in his skin as he was reminded of what he had done. And as he stood, he looked directly into the face of Severus Snape. 

Harry stared, almost wishing he could back away into a corner. He had wished for so many months to see the man and yet now that he was here it was not Severus he was seeing, but Professor Snape, tightly buttoned up beyond his collar bone and wrists with layer upon layer of thick black. And the look of ire on his face was so imposing that Harry could hardly bear to live when the man whom he cared for most in the world so obviously hated him.

‘Dare I even ask, Mr Potter’ Snape spat, ‘what you think you are doing in my private chambers?’ He seemed three times larger with his robes spreading behind him than Severus ever had been naked and pressed up against him in his bed. 

And Harry really did back away then, pressing himself into the stone corner of the room, his hand coming up to scratch and dig into his burning, itching skin, his eyes screwed shut in an attempt to quieten the screaming in his head. And then, finally, Harry succumbed and his legs buckled, his back sliding down the cool stone, a short relief against the burning as his vision blackened. He was vaguely aware, through all of this, of strong arms, covered in thick black cloth coming around him and lifting him to rest against a firm chest he was so familiar with, the incessant burning and itching of his skin finally loosening from around him as Severus (and whatever this was, it was Severus, all heady with wood and calm and soft strength) washed over him. 

He was laid on the sofa far more gently than by a man who hated him, almost choking as a vial was held up to his lips and poured down his throat and he coughed, doubling in on himself in pain. And suddenly Snape’s cool hand was resting in his hair and Harry was falling into a darkness that for the first time since the end of the war was filled with calm. 

‘You foolish, foolish boy, Potter’ Snape murmured, but really there was no heart in it. 

-

Severus had stayed, standing just far enough away from Harry that he could not be seen for well over an hour, waiting and watching as Harry slept. Whatever all of this meant, it was certainly not what he had been expecting. He had not expected Harry to be interested enough in him to care after the war, and certainly not enough to overcome an impossible apparition barrier. Quite how he had managed that was a problem for another day, but Severus had come to realise that where Harry Potter was concerned, matters of magical rules seemed rather not to apply. 

He knew really that believing Harry not to be interested in him was an excuse, and a poor one at that. Because if Harry was not interested in him then why had he written him that letter, said a small voice in the back of Snape’s mind, and he quashed it viciously. People like him: ugly, greasy and emotionally incapable did not fit well with people like Harry Potter. Severus did not do relationships (whatever that meant). 

Eventually, once he had accepted that Harry really was asleep on the velvet sofa, Severus slunk out of the room and lay down on his own bed, falling into a fitful sleep plagued by fleeting images of the boy he could not love.

-

Night had fallen around the Hogwarts Castle as Harry stood, his arms folded over the side of the astronomy tower as he stared into the distance. Hours earlier his body had been wracked with grief and horror as he curled in on himself behind that wall. Despite the sobs that had torn their way through his body earlier, as Harry’s gaze lingered on the middle distance he almost felt calmness wash over his mind. The fact that he had killed yet another person barely seemed real to him, although the memory of the man’s body slipping wordlessly into nothingness was imprinted on his mind as he closed his eyes. The numbness of his reality had settled on him and Harry realised that for as long as he stood here he would feel this detachment from the world, and he was not sure that he wanted to return and face his reality. Not that he wished to end his reality either, despite the incomprehensible pull of the steep fall through the air he could inflict upon himself. 

He felt his breath hitch in this throat at this, and he struggled to suppress the sobs that he had barely managed to contain earlier. A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and tracked its way down his cheek. Harry wished that just for a while he could cease to exist, or at least that the uncomfortable facts about his reality would flow from his mind until he had a concrete way to overcome them. He wanted to feel safe and weightless, as if he could float through the breeze with the kind of simplicity that the birds flying over the castle seemed to do with ease, or as if he could become the white of a wave far out at sea. He wanted to forget, just for a while, that he had spent so much of his life killing people and being lauded for it. He just wanted to be a normal person. 

‘Out so late, Mr Potter?’ 

The voice was unmistakably that of the Head of Slytherin, but Harry, even in his current state of mind, noticed just a slight hint of gentility in the words. He did not respond, even as Snape walked over slowly to join him in looking out over the edge of the astronomy tower. 

They fell into a further five minutes of silence before Snape spoke again. 

‘I hope you are not holding any misguided thoughts of jumping from this tower, Harry.’ he began, the sneer evident once again in his voice. ‘Neither I, nor any other member of staff, have the time to be sweeping you up off the ground tomorrow’. Snape raised a singular eyebrow in Harry’s direction, and Harry let out a short puff of air somewhat derisively in response. 

‘No such luck I’m afraid, Professor. I shouldn’t like to give you the satisfaction of my death.’ 

Harry was somewhat confused by Snape’s presence. Snape, the man who apparently despised his existence so much, who Harry had once thought had cared for him. He felt the hurt swell up inside his chest again as he recalled the contempt with which Snape had regarded him when he had unceremoniously appeared earlier. The total disregard for him after the war, when his letter had been returned to him unopened. After that, Harry had though that it was more likely that Snape would come to push him over the edge of the tower than express concern for his welfare, if that was indeed what Snape was doing. It was hard to tell through the harsh veneer of sarcasm. 

‘It would be remiss of me to leave you here, Harry, as it is my duty to ensure your life continues.’ 

‘I’m not a student here any more, Professor.’ Harry spat. ‘I don’t think you have any reason to be concerned with my welfare, seeing as how I so obviously never meant anything to you.’ 

‘Don’t be childish, Potter.’ Snape returned, his voice dangerously low.

A further five minutes of silence ensued before Harry began to shiver. 

‘For goodness sake, Potter, you will come inside at once before this ridiculous behaviour causes you to catch something.’ came Snape’s exasperated voice, but as he unbuttoned his heavy cloak and wrapped it around Harry’s shoulders, spinning the younger man’s small form around to face back towards the castle he re-exposed the caring side Harry had barely dared to hope still existed. Snape’s hand ghosted Harry’s back as he urged him back inside, but Harry stopped him, turning to face him. Fat drops of rain had started to fall now and the night air was heavy and humid. 

‘Did you mean what you said?’ Harry asked. 

Snape stared at him blankly for a second, and when comprehension did not immediately dawn on him he huffed and tried to lead Harry back inside again, but Harry’s freezing hand had grabbed him forcefully around the wrist and pulled him back. 

‘Did you mean what you said the last time? Or did you just say it because it felt like the world was ending?’ 

Thunder rumbled in the distance as Snape stared into Harry’s face, his black eyes more lost than Harry had ever seen them. 

‘Did you mean it, Snape?’ He pressed, closing his other hand around Snape’s opposite wrist, his thumb moving over the spot where his blood pulsed slowly, as if trying to draw Snape into him. 

‘I- yes’ Snape finally admitted, his voice so low Harry could barely discern it as the drizzle turned to thick spots of rain. 

‘Do you still mean it now?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

And then Severus was staring directly at Harry’s mouth, something unspoken, but so, so strong pulling them together. Severus’ mouth was so close he could feel his shallow breathing on his cheek, just touching upon his lips, cool against the heavy, humid summers air. 

The rain was cold on Harry’s face, but Snape’s mouth was warm and safe and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and press in closer to Severus just to stop himself from breaking. And then, suddenly, Severus’ hands were tangling through his wet hair, and his tongue was slipping into Harry’s mouth, hot and slick and wet over his own and he felt it right in the very pit of his stomach, a surge of something so strong that it was almost painful. He pulled his hands up to grasp at the collar of Severus’ thick robes, pulling him so that their chests pushed together so close that he could feel the erratic rise and fall of Severus’ breathing and a low groan escaped Severus’ lips. He pulled his mouth away from Harry’s, just for a second and Harry keened towards him, trying to draw Severus’ air back into his lungs. 

‘Now, now, Mr Potter,’ Snape began in a low murmur that rumbled through his chest, still pressed up against Harry’s, who mewled, so strung up that his body stretched involuntarily against Snape’s grinding his hardening cock against Snape’s thigh, which was pressed up, warm and firm between Harry’s own legs. 

‘You really are an insufferable brat, Potter.’ Snape said softly as his lips grazed the lobe of Harry’s ear, before pressing his mouth down and sucking forcefully at the soft tender skin of Harry’s neck. 

Harry practically screamed, pressing his face into Snape’s robes and inhaling the heady scent of woody musk, before dragging his face back up and coming down forcefully on Severus’ lips, his teeth grazing against his him as he pushed Snape back against the cold stone wall, his arms wrapping around Snape’s back, trying to touch him everywhere at once (how could someone be so firm and imposing and silken and yet so, so soft all at the same time?) and his tongue slipped languorously over Severus’. 

Eventually, Harry pulled back, barely half an inch, breathing heavily. His forehead was still resting against Snape’s, their lips so close they could brush over each other and the air passed between them, hot, broken and trembling. Snape’s arms were wrapped firmly around Harry’s back, holding him up as he sagged, finally pulling away to bury his face in the crook of Severus’ neck, and he felt Severus’ hand come up to brush gently through the thick strands of his hair, dripping from the heavy rain. 

Several moments passed before either of them was able to speak, and the sun was starting to come up. 

‘Bed I think, Mr Potter.’ 

‘Are we really not on first name terms yet?’ 

Snape raised an eyebrow in response, but pressed his hand firmly into Harry’s back, guiding him back through the corridors and down into the dungeons. 

By the time they were back, Snape had muttered a drying charm, but Harry stopped abruptly outside Severus’ bedroom door. 

‘Can I go in?’ he asked, not quite able to meet Severus’ eyes. 

‘I think we’re a bit beyond that, don’t you?’ 

Harry did not respond for a second, and then said ‘If you let me in, you can’t disappear on me again. Can you promise that you’re not just going to get bored of me again and fall off the face of the earth?’ 

Harry did not usually ask for things. It was in his nature to just accept what he was given. He didn’t want to be a burden on people – certainly he didn’t want to take from people when he was sure that he didn’t deserve it. But this - being with Severus - he could not be dropped by him again and survive. 

Severus grabbed him softly by the wrist and pulled him inside the room, and a warmth bloomed in Harry that he had never felt before. He handed Severus back his cloak wordlessly, before pulling off his clothes and slipping between the cool sheets of Severus’ bed. He seemed to gravitate towards Severus’ body, immediately taking up the position he had kept for so many months whilst the war was on, with his head laid upon Severus’ heart. 

‘You’re warm, ‘s nice’ he mumbled into Severus chest, and he felt it rumble as Severus laughed in response. 

‘Twit’ Severus said softly, his arm coming up to rest around Harry’s shoulders. 

Harry had the best night’s sleep he had had since the war had ended. 

-

Severus woke to Harry’s lips ghosting over his own. He was lying on top of Severus, his cock hard and pressing against his leg. Severus growled, still not properly awake, and rolled over so that he was pushing Harry into the mattress, his hands pinning his wrists to the bed. 

‘Feeling frisky this morning?’ he said in a low rumble. 

‘Perhaps.’ Harry replied, smirking as Severus’ lips came down upon his own, smothering him. This kiss was nothing like the desperate, passion fuelled kissing of the night before. Severus’ lips were soft against Harry’s (gentle and exploratory as he licked around Harry’s mouth, tasting every inch of him.) 

Severus broke the kiss, just for a moment to look down at Harry, his hand coming up to rest against Harry’s face, his thumb gently stroking down Harry’s cheek and the ends of Severus’ long dark hair brushed against Harry’s face. And as Snape’s head dipped down to suck on the sensitive spot on Harry’s neck, he almost thought he heard him whisper ‘perfect’, his lips ghosting Harry’s skin. 

Severus dragged his hands down Harry’s body, still pushing him down into the mattress, holding him in place. He began pressing his mouth, hot and wet, very slowly up Harry’s right thigh. By the time he had reached the edge of Harry’s cock the younger man was squirming and moaning, desperate to feel Snape’s mouth on him. When Snape moved to kiss up his other thigh Harry practically screamed, jerking his crotch forward. 

‘Please, Severus.’ He moaned, his voice betraying his utter desperation. 

Severus lifted his head up from between Harry’s thighs, moving his hands to press his hips down and stop the man’s wriggling. 

‘Patience,’ Snape said, his voice low and rumbling ‘is a virtue, Mr Potter.’ His warm breath fell on Harry’s twitching cock and Harry mewled again, trying to push himself up to meet Snape’s mouth, but the older man’s grip was far too strong on his hips. 

Snape raised an eyebrow in a way that could make only him look dignified whilst settled between the legs of another man. ‘Don’t you want to be good for me, Harry?’ he asked, his voice practically a whisper. 

‘Yes.’ Harry moaned. ‘Yes, I want to be good.’ trying his best to still his hips. 

Severus seemed to be happy with this and went back to Harry’s other thigh. When, finally, Severus reached Harry’s crotch he was so strung out that his whole body was trembling with the anticipation of release. 

Severus pressed his mouth (hot, so searingly hot that his skin felt scorched) to the end of Harry’s cock and he practically came undone, screaming Severus’ name as he jerked forward. Severus took the full length of Harry’s cock in his mouth and began sucking, his mouth passing up and down the rigid shaft. All Harry could think was that nothing had ever felt as wonderful as being enveloped by Severus’s mouth (all warm and soft and safe as Severus’s strong grip kept him steady). Harry came almost immediately, breathless and jerking, Severus holding him firmly all the while. When Severus finally let Harry’s cock slip out of his mouth, fully spent and soft and looked up at Harry he scoffed slightly. 

‘You foolish boy.’ He murmured, stretching his body out against Harry’s. He had passed out. 

-

By the time Harry and Snape had made it out of bed and dressed the sun was high in the sky. Harry was slumped on the sofa by the fire, Severus sipping coffee in an armchair opposite, his legs crossed and observing Harry over the top of his cup. 

It did not take a genius to deduce that there was something wrong with Harry. Even after a fairly good night’s sleep his skin was still greying and he had barely touched food since he had arrived in Snape’s quarters. 

‘Would you care to explain what happened yesterday evening?’ Snape asked, his voice soft but firm. 

Harry’s gaze did not move from the fire. 

‘Harry’ Snape prompted, and he raised his head, just slightly, still not quite able to look Snape in the eye. 

‘Nothing happened.’ He said

‘Nothing happened.’ Snape repeated, sounding somewhat incredulous. ‘And what sort of nothing was it that allowed you to bypass a set of ancient magical laws and apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds?’ 

‘I don’t know ok.’ Harry snapped, finally looking into Snape’s eyes. ‘How the hell am I supposed to know how I did that, I wasn’t trying to.’ His voice had practically risen to a shout now, fraught with something Severus could not quite put his finger on. ‘I just,’ he faltered, his eyes falling again. ‘I just wanted to be somewhere safe. I wasn’t trying to come here. I just wanted to be safe.’ 

‘Hmm.’ Came Snape’s response. That had not been what he was expecting. Not that he had really had any idea, but he was half expecting Potter to go off on a ramble about the power of true love and this strange blankness that Potter was giving him instead was worrying. 

‘So you regard me as safe?’ Snape asked

‘I wasn’t thinking about you, I was just thinking about getting out of there.’ Harry said, something wild about his voice. 

‘Out of where?’ Severus asked softly. 

A long silence permeated the room. Harry knew that Severus wasn’t going to do anything but stare at him warningly until he replied, but he didn’t know what he could possibly say that would explain the abject horror he had been feeling. 

‘I was on an Auror mission.’ He admitted finally. ‘I killed someone.’ He could not look anywhere near Snape. In fact, his gaze darted anxiously around everything in the room but Snape, never resting for more than a few seconds. 

Then Severus did something he had never even considered that he might do to anyone, and stood up, crossing the small distance between them and sitting down next to Harry on the sofa, his hand reaching out to cover one of Harrys, which, he noted, was trembling slightly, but seemed to still at his touch. 

‘And did you intend to kill this person when you set out on the mission?’ He asked. 

There was something in Severus’ voice, Harry thought. Something about its depth, the regularity of its rumbling that settled over him like a blanket of calm. He pressed himself against Severus’ side tentatively, relaxing when the man pressed an arm around him firmly. (and yet so, so gentle.)

‘No.’ Harry said, his voice muffled by Severus’ robes as he rested the side of his face against them. ‘But that doesn’t matter, I still killed someone Severus. Again.’ 

And that was the crux of the matter. Harry Potter had become someone who murdered quite as often as Voldemort, he thought. And yet while one was despised, the other was revered. 

‘How am I any better than him, if I kill just as often as he did?’ Harry’s voice was small and trembling. 

‘You did not kill out of choice Harry. You killed because you had to – to protect others.’ 

Harry did not really feel placated by this, but he didn’t want to talk about it at all, so he simply pressed himself further into Severus’ robes and inhaled him. 

-

Somewhere in Harry’s mind he had always thought that starting whatever he had had up again with Severus would solve all his problems. However, when, at the end of the weekend he had had to return home to his dingy house in London and had thought about the fact that he was going to have to go back to the Auror office on Monday he felt just as empty and numb inside as he had done for the last few months. 

Harry had convinced a reluctant Severus to come and meet him for coffee on Tuesday during his lunchbreak, and that they would go out for dinner over the weekend, which was something only barely short of a miracle (and he marvelled at the fact that Snape could just pop over from Scotland in his lunch hour), but the idea of going back to where he was last week and killing yet more people made him feel like he wanted to rip his own skin off. He had killed two people now, directly: Voldemort and this man last week – he hadn’t even known his name. Just known that he was planning an attack on muggles. A Voldemort copycat. Harry could barely even begin to think of all the people he had killed indirectly, and when he did his nails dug deeply into the skin of his forearm as he bit into his lip. He was no better than Voldemort, whatever Severus had said about intention to kill. 

Harry did not move from his sofa all night. What was the point in sleeping when his nightmares made him more tired and jittery than staying awake all night staring into nothingness? 

-  
‘You look terrible.’ 

‘Charming. You don’t look much better yourself.’ 

Snape raised his eyebrows at Harry as if to say ‘you’re deflecting.’ They were sitting in armchairs facing each other tucked into the window of a muggle coffee shop near the ministry of magic. 

‘I’m fine Snape.’ Harry said, trying to sound cheerful, but Severus didn’t look convinced. ‘I just had to go through a ridiculous mound of paperwork and disciplinary summons yesterday. Did my head in.’ 

‘Disciplinary summons?’ Snape probed. 

‘Turns out its against ministry guidelines to leave a dead body lying in a street and disappear for the weekend.’ 

‘That is hardly surprising, Mr Potter.’ 

‘It wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t flouting the rules though, would it?’ Harry replied

‘That much,’ Snape said, ‘is probably true.’ 

‘That’s quite enough about me anyway.’ Harry said, obviously keen to change the subject. ‘How many detentions have you given out this week?’ 

‘A mere twelve.’ 

‘Twelve?’ Harry replied incredulously, the volume of his voice doubling. ‘But it’s only Tuesday.’

‘Yes, twelve. Most of them to Gryffindors I might add.’ 

‘Nice to see you’re not softening in your old age I suppose.’ Snape shot him a warming glare and he added ‘not that old, obviously’, laughing slightly. ‘More, hmm, dignified.’ 

Snape hummed a response that possibly could have been approving, but really, when it came to Snape’s noises, Harry was well behind in his translating abilities. 

After a moment Snape went back to stirring his coffee, the spoon clanking against the edges of the china cup every few seconds and Harry took the opportunity to stare at him. Snape had aged a little since he had started staring at him several years ago. The wrinkles around his eyes were more pronounced, but he was inclined to think that his mellowing was on account of the fact that he no longer hated Harry, rather than because he had decided to start being nicer as a general rule (in fact, if the detentions were anything to go by, he was probably getting worse.) Snape’s black hair was, at least, somewhat less greasy these days, and Harry liked the way it hung down and feathered against his own face when Snape was lying on top of him. He loved the depth in Snape’s eyes, his elegant, stained fingers. He thought he was beautiful. 

‘You’re staring, Potter.’ 

‘Absolutely.’ Harry replied, the corners of his mouth softening upwards. ‘I need something to make the rest of my day bearable.’ 

‘Ridiculous.’ Snape muttered, rolling his eyes. But Harry thought that somewhere deep underneath all of that he saw warmth in his eyes. 

‘Can I still see you this weekend?’ he asked. 

‘I don’t suppose I’m going to get away with saying ‘no’ am I?’ 

‘Not likely.’ Harry admitted as he stood up to leave the coffee shop. 

The sky was darkening slightly as he and Severus walked outside, a deep pink taking over at the bottom of the horizon as a cool breeze came through the otherwise warm summer’s air. 

‘See you.’ Harry said, not quite able to bring himself to turn and walk away. Just as he did he felt Severus’ hand grab his wrist and he turned, smiling at the sight of Severus in the wind. He was wearing a black woollen muggle overcoat over his suit, and his deep green scarf was blowing over his shoulder. ‘You look nice in muggle clothes.’ Harry said, and Snape tugged his arm forward so that their faces were so close his warm breath was falling on Harry’s lips. Snape leaned forward to brush his lips softly against Harry’s, before dropping his wrist, pulling back and apparating away. 

-

Come Saturday evening, Severus was pacing in his living room, his steps becoming more and more irate as the minutes on the clock ticked by. Potter was late. They had agreed that Harry would arrive at Hogwarts at seven o’clock for a pre-dinner drink, before attending their reservation at half past in muggle London. It was now seven twenty-five, and Snape was practically spitting, the occasional word like ‘unreliable’ and ‘child’ escaping his mouth. 

By eight o’clock Severus had heatedly torn the muggle coat he had worn earlier in the week from the wall and had marched angrily towards the front entrance of the school, the small number of students who were in the corridor parting in fear – his expression was thunderous. 

He apparated just beyond the boundary and appeared seconds later on Harry’s front porch. He jabbed at the doorbell aggressively, imagining that Potter, being still the layabout he had been in his school days, simply could not be bothered to arrive on time. When, several minutes later the door still had not been answered, despite Snape pressing the bell twice more, increasingly aggressively each time, he pulled out his wand ready to unlock the door himself magically, however when pushed upon it opened unaided and Snape let out a snort of exasperation – of course Potter was the sort of person who would forget to lock his front door. 

‘Potter.’ He shouted, slamming the door behind him. There was no reply, but he could hear the shower running in the bathroom and he pushed the door open (also not locked and Severus rolled his eyes despairingly). 

‘Potter, you are an hour late for our-‘ he began, his voice cold and harsh, but he petered off before he had even reached the end of his sentence: Harry was sitting in the shower, his knees drawn up to his chest. His skin was raw, turned red by the heat of the shower, which Severus noticed had been turned up to its hottest setting, and had been scrubbed thin, or scratched, Severus thought, remembering how Harry had been acting when he had turned up in his quarters last weekend. 

‘Harry?’ he said, his voice so much softer than it had been seconds before, but the younger man did not move, or even acknowledge that Severus had spoken, continuing to stare blankly at the shower wall opposite him. 

Severus walked towards the door of the shower, calling his name out again but Harry continued to stare, as if in a trance. Severus reached inside the shower, flinching slightly as the boiling water hit his hand, and turned it off. Harry was still staring blankly ahead of him and suddenly Severus felt very out of his depth – this was not a situation he had any experience in. And so Severus stood, his hand still resting upon the shower dial until Harry started to shiver and he decided that it probably didn’t matter that he wasn’t used to being kind to people, because it would be difficult to make Harry any worse than he currently looked. 

‘Come on, Potter.’ He said gently, moving his hand to rest softly on Harry’s shoulder. ‘I think you’ve spent quite enough time in there now. I’m sure the wizarding world wouldn’t want to lose their saviour to a shower related drowning incident.’ Harry still didn’t make as if to stand up but after a moment he turned his head to look at Severus, his eyes watery, his body still shaking from the cold now that the shower had been turned off. 

‘Harry?’ Severus said again, his voice gentle and soft like silk, and finally Harry stood up. Severus reached out to steady him as he walked out into the bathroom, letting go only momentarily to pick up Harry’s discarded dressing gown from the floor and wrap it around his wet, shaking body. He was about to ask Harry what had gone so wrong for him to sit numbly in the shower burning his skin off, but Harry pre-empted him. He sagged forwards, resting his forehead on Severus’ shoulder and inhaling the woody pine that came off Severus’ suit. 

‘I resigned.’ He said, his voice shaking. ‘I killed another person, and I resigned.’ 

And then, finally, Harry fell apart, broken sobs clogging up his throat, wracking through his body. His arms came up, trembling, to pull Severus closer, pressing his face into the crease of Severus’ neck, his fists clenching in the warm material of his coat. Severus wrapped his arms around Harry, soothing his shaking with his hands, pressing soft circles into his back through the thick material of his dressing gown. 

Eventually Harry’s shuddering breaths slowed and he sagged more heavily against Severus’ strong body. 

‘Sorry,’ He said, his voice still thick with tears. ‘I didn’t mean to miss dinner. And I didn’t mean to fall apart all over you. I just,’ Harry began, a self-loathing so evident in his voice that Severus instinctively tightened his hold on him. 

‘Do be quiet Potter. I think under the circumstances it is perhaps me who should be apologising to you – although you really must learn how to lock your doors.’ If Harry didn’t know any better, he would have said that Snape almost sounded fond. 

Severus pulled back then, being careful to keep an arm wrapped around Harry’s back – the man was still shaking and seemed very unsteady on his feet – and guided him towards his bedroom, relieved that Harry’s house was minimal, and that it was obvious where everything was as he had never been round before. When they arrived in his bedroom, Severus guided Harry to the bed, allowing him to sit down before releasing his grip and going to rifle through his chest of drawers. He found a soft pair of tartan pyjama bottoms and a grey t-shirt and brought them over, laying them on the bed, before sitting down next to Harry. 

‘If you take your dressing gown off I can treat your skin.’ Severus said, laying a hand over Harry’s. Harry moved obediently, pulling the dressing gown from around his shoulders and letting it fall. 

Severus stood, reaching inside his coat pocket as he did so and pulling out a small pot of salve. Harry scoffed, almost laughing, his face still wet from crying. Severus raised his eyebrows as if to ask him what was so funny and Harry snorted again. 

‘It’s just’ he said, ‘do you carry that stuff everywhere with you? Are you coat pockets always full of potions?’ 

‘They are.’ Snape replied. ‘And you should be glad of it given how often you seem to find yourself in danger.’ 

Harry did not reply, but he was smiling up at Severus now, even if through watery eyes. 

‘Stand up’ Snape said, the fondness returning to his voice, and Harry’s heart swelled far more than it should have. 

Slowly Severus rubbed the salve into all the angry reddened patches on Harry’s skin. It was cool, and Severus’ fingers were so firm on his back that he sighed, relaxing into his touch. When Severus finished he had to nudge Harry twice out of the calm trance he had fallen into. He handed Harry the t-shirt and helped him to step into the pyjama trousers, murmuring ‘Good boy’ very softly into Harry’s hair as he helped him pull the dressing gown back on.

-

Later that evening Harry sat curled into Severus on his sofa, staring out of the window as Severus’ hand stroked through the thick strands of his hair, his other hand nursing a black coffee. 

‘Sorry we missed dinner.’ Harry said, breaking the silence. 

‘That’s quite all right.’ Severus replied, his hand still moving in Harry’s hair. ‘Do you feel better?’ 

‘Maybe?’ Harry said, feeling unsure of himself. ‘I mean, I’m relieved I don’t have to go back there, and that I don’t have to be an Auror any more, but it doesn’t change the fact that I still feel so hollow and useless when I think about all the people who would be alive if I had just, I don’t know, been better.’ 

Severus was silent for a moment and then exhaled heavily, putting his coffee down on a side table and closing his hand over Harry’s softly. 

‘I understand,’ he began, ‘what it is like to hate yourself for not saving more people. And I am sure you well understand that I can sympathise with the horror you feel at yourself knowing that you have directly killed people. But Harry, you must also know that there are numerous people whose lives you have saved?’ 

‘What does that matter?’ Harry asked bitterly, his voice low and angry at himself. 

‘It matters because I know you are not a cold-blooded killer. I know that you never meant to harm anyone, never went into a situation looking to kill unless it was absolutely your last hope. It is not your fault that you have been in far more of those situations than most people. Nor does it make you any less strong if you are affected by them.’ 

This seemed to placate Harry for the time being and he fell into silence, calmed by the gentle rise and fall of Severus’ chest as he lay against it. 

‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with myself now. It seemed so obvious to everyone that I should be an Auror I never even thought about another career. No one seemed to account for their prize weapon surviving I suppose. It just doesn’t feel like there’s a place for me now the war is over. Apart from with you.’ Harry said this last tentatively, not daring to look up at Severus in case he had gone too far. 

After a pause that was so long Harry wondered if Severus had even heard him, he replied, 

‘There is one career you have perhaps not considered – Minerva is still yet to fill the Defence position at the school.’ 

Harry’s heart began to beat fast and heavy in his chest. ‘Are you asking me to move in with you?’ Harry blurted out before he could think too much about it. 

Severus snorted. ‘I hardly think it would be appropriate for the Head of Slytherin to be harbouring a Gryffindor in his rooms. But, if you happened to pop down every now and again I suppose it wouldn’t be too much of a hardship.’ 

‘Yeah, I’m sure you wouldn’t know how to cope at all.’ Harry replied, but he was smirking, and he sat up to wrap his arms around Severus more fully.


	3. Myrrh for the Honoured Happy Dead

#### Myrrh for the Honoured Happy Dead

Minerva, of course, was only too happy to offer Harry the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, despite the fact that he had completed no formal teaching qualifications. (There had been no other applicants and neither had most of the Defence teachers Harry had had whilst he was at school.) Naturally he would have to undertake a course in teacher training, but he would be starting it now and completing it alongside his job when he started in several months time.

He had also, begrudgingly, and after Severus had suggested (and then point blank requested) it, agreed to see a mind healer at St. Mungo’s. He had not spoken to Severus about it since he had started going. Not because he didn’t want to, as such, but because he didn’t want to bring his mental health up in front of him – the more time that passed after he had broken apart in front of him, the more embarrassed and ashamed he felt about it (although intellectually he knew Severus wanted to help him and hadn’t minded). The problem was that Harry had never had someone before whom he could ask things of and he didn’t know how far he could go without Severus finding him annoying or thinking him childish, and that was the last thing he wanted. 

It had taken him a while to get over the initial stigma of needing to see a mind healer. (He had spent the first three sessions in silence, having begun ‘I’m only here because my partner is forcing me to come, but I’m totally fine.’, and then refusing to speak at all afterwards). But the silence had got the better of him eventually and he had begun to talk. About how empty he had felt after the war, and how he hated himself for all the death and destruction he had caused. But mostly about the horror he felt in the middle of the night when he woke up feeling like he was going to have to go back and fight, or when he remembered all the people he had killed, not just during the war, but after as well. 

He had felt somewhat better generally since he had left his job with the Aurors and stopped having to relive his trauma every day, and not dreading going into work every day was doing wonders for his ability to sleep at night, but he still had nightmares more often than he would like to admit. His mind healer had told him that joining the Aurors less than two months after he had finished being the prize weapon in a war and having had no form of counselling had been a recipe for disaster, and that he was surprised Harry had lasted as long as he had without having a breakdown. But mental health problems were not something that had ever been mentioned to Harry before (if anyone who he had known had seen a mind healer then they certainly hadn’t told him about it), so it had never really occurred to him that what he had been feeling had been so much worse than what anyone else felt. He would continue going whilst he was working at Hogwarts, at the weekends, when he wasn’t teaching, and though he hated to admit it, he was glad of it. 

-

It was barely twenty-four hours after Harry had been offered the post at Hogwarts that Severus turned up unannounced on his doorstep. 

‘I really cannot believe what has become of that school. Hiring totally unqualified, untrained staff, I might be forced to have a word with Minerva about it.’ he said, staring at Harry over the threshold of his house, but he was carrying a bottle of firewhiskey, which he thrust at him. 

‘If you’re making an attempt to congratulate me, Severus then I think you might have to try a bit harder, it’s not working.’ Harry replied, smirking. ‘And you know, I’m not sure it’s in your best interests to talk to Minerva, seeing as I know you want me in the castle so I can come down and visit you.’ 

‘Perhaps.’ He said, stepping over the threshold. ‘At any rate, I suppose you cannot be any more of an imbecile than Lockhart was.’ Severus conceded, brushing his lips against Harrys as he removed his cloak. 

‘High praise.’ Harry muttered, taking Severus’ cloak and hanging it up. 

‘Is there a reason your house is full of boxes, Potter?’ Severus asked as he narrowly missed tripping over several that were littering up Harry’s hall. 

‘Oh yeah.’ Harry said, ‘I’ve decided to sell the house.’ 

Severus stared at him. ‘You are aware, I suppose that your position doesn’t start until September? And that it is currently June? And that you will be spending the next few months undertaking a teacher training course in London?’ He said, looking at Harry as if he had gone mad. 

‘Yeah I know.’ He said, placing his hand on Severus’ elbow and guiding him through to his living room which was equally bare and covered with boxes. 

‘And where, exactly, am I supposed to sit?’ Snape drawled, raising as eyebrow at Harry. 

‘You and I both know you are perfectly capable of sitting on the floor, Snape, you’ve taken me enough times on it.’ 

Snape swatted him, but sat down all the same, his robes pooling around him as Harry rummaged in a box for two whisky glasses. 

‘You still haven’t told me where you are planning on living, Potter.’ He said. 

Harry, having finally located the glasses in the fourth box that he tried, sat down between Severus’ legs, leaning his back against his chest. 

‘I’ve bought a house just outside of York.’ He said. ‘It’s got a garden.’ 

‘Only you would buy and sell property on a whim, Potter.’ Severus said, exasperated. ‘I presume then that you will be apparating to London every day?’

‘It’s hardly a whim, I’ve been talking about this garden for years, and it’s not going to take me any longer to get to the course than it would have done if I was here.’ Harry replied, sinking into the warmth of Snape’s chest and feeling him snake one arm around his front. 

‘Hmm.’ Snape sighed, still slightly baffled by Harry’s behaviour. 

‘So I can live there until I start at Hogwarts, and then I can go and stay there in the holidays. Pop back for a few hours a week to check on my plants. You could come too, in the holidays I mean, if you wanted?’ 

‘I could be tempted once in a while, I suppose.’ Snape replied. ‘When will this ridiculous move be taking place?’ 

‘Tomorrow.’ 

Snape blanched. ‘You are completely insane, Potter. But,’ he said, softening, ‘I suppose it would be remiss of me not to take on this mangy carpet one more time.’ His voice was like silk as he set down his glass and pushed Harry down so that he was lying on the floor and straddled his hips. 

‘Very remiss.’ Harry replied as Severus’ mouth came down to cover his own, and Harry pulled his arms around Severus’ back, gripping onto the fabric of his robes as Severus began to kiss him firmly, his hands roaming down Harry’s body. 

Severus pressed his mouth wetly down Harry’s neck, pausing to suck behind his ear, to lick softly at his earlobe and Harry shuddered, moaning and grinding his crotch into Severus, feeling the older man hardening as he did so. 

As Harry’s hands began to roam beneath Severus’ robes, pressing his fingers up and down his back, Severus moved to press his mouth, hot and damp, to Harry’s nipple, a noise vibrating low in his throat as Harry’s hands began to roam lower, dipping beneath the waist of his trousers. 

‘You are wearing far too many clothes, Potter.’ Severus breathed, the air hot against Harry’s skin.

‘I’m not wearing any more than you are, Severus.’ 

But this did not seem to bother Severus, who merely replied ‘Off’, in a manner so commanding that Harry divested himself of his clothes before he had had a chance to think about it. 

Once satisfied with his state of undress, Severus went back to kissing Harry, his body pressed over him possessively, enjoying how Harry twisted in desire under him as he pressed a single finger to his entrance, circling the hole before pressing into him. Soon one finger had turned two, and Severus was making a scissoring motion inside Harry, brushing over the little bundle of nerves and Harry arched his back in pleasure, beginning to kiss Severus even more ferociously than he already was. 

One of his hands came down to trace against the outline of Severus’ hard cock, still constrained by his suit trousers, smirking into the kiss as Severus gasped, his crotch bucking forward involuntarily to feel more of Harry’s hand against him. Severus lifted his mouth up from Harry, just for a second, and it was all the encouragement Harry needed. He palmed Severus’ cock through the silky material again before turning so that Severus was lying on the floor and he settled again between his legs. 

Harry undid Severus’ trousers, pulling him free and licking once, hot and wet up the underside of his cock, his hand gently fondling his balls and Severus jerked forward slightly, wanting more contact with Harry’s mouth. 

As Harry took Severus’ heavy cock, swallowing the full length in his mouth and sucking, Severus pressed his back up against the wall so he could see the vision before him – Harry, naked and lying between his legs, Severus’ cock in his mouth while he himself was still fully clothed. As Severus shifted, Harry stopped running his mouth and tongue up and down Severus’ length to look up him through dark lashes, and Severus almost came just at the sight of him, his glasses askew on his face and Severus’ pre-cum trailing down the side of his chin. 

‘Stop, Harry.’ Severus said with a level of self-control he was barely sure he had several minutes later, his cock still quivering as Harry obediently let it fall from his mouth. ‘I’m afraid I don’t quite have your stamina, and I do believe my aim was to take you on this carpet. 

Harry slid up so that he was face to face with Severus, and Severus reached out to cup the side of Harry’s face, his thumb stroking across his cheek, staring at him for a moment before motioning for Harry to come and sit astride his lap. Severus wove his fingers into Harry’s thick hair, moaning again as Harry’s arse cheeks rubbed against his hardened cock. Severus positioned himself and gently allowed Harry to sit down on it, moaning into Harry’s mouth as he felt him encase him in wet heat. 

Harry began to thrust down heavily on Severus, his own hands scratching into Severus’ back through the material of his shirt, grasping for something to hold onto as Severus brought a hand down to circle around his cock, allowing him to buck upwards into his hand. Finally, Harry screamed out, hot white liquid spurting over Severus’ stomach, and Harry coming undone on top of him and bringing himself down heavily once more on his cock was all he needed and Severus too came, shaking, inside Harry, biting down on the soft skin by Harry’s neck as he did to stifle his moans. 

-

Harry spent the next three weeks, when he was not on London, almost entirely tending to his new garden. The exam period had begun at Hogwarts, so he had barely been able to see Severus, but if his time at school had been anything to go by, he would probably not be pleasant to be around at this time of year anyway, and Harry was quite used to being on his own, so he didn’t mind. 

By the time the exam period had ended, Harry hand planted wildflowers and grasses around the entirety of his back garden, but his boxes (beyond those containing the essentials he needed for everyday life) were yet to be unpacked. So, when Severus first came around and, for the second time, practically tripped over all of Harry’s possessions, he had rolled his eyes and called him an idiot, but it hadn’t stopped him from immediately taking Harry over the empty kitchen table. Not unpacking had some perks, Harry thought later that night. Severus had passed out next to him in the bed, the exams obviously having taken some toll on him (Harry supposed it was tiring pacing up and down between rows of students looking as menacing as only Snape could). And despite everything that had happened in the last year, Harry couldn’t help but smile as he lay down and curled himself around Severus’ warm body, which seemed to gravitate towards him in sleep. He didn’t think so much about the dead now, or at least, not about his part in their deaths, and that in itself was so refreshing, and such a change from how he had felt since he was fourteen and had looked on Cedric Diggory’s greying and lifeless body, that he practically felt light. 

-

As the first of September arrived, Harry paced around his new chambers in Hogwarts. The castle had decked the rooms out in deep red, which he was sure Severus would hate, but that was a problem for the future. His current worry was neither this, nor teaching – he had been doing that, qualified or unqualified since his fifth year - but about how he was supposed to behave around Severus. Would he be expected to ignore Severus, or worse, allow him free rein to insult him in public so as to keep up the pretence that they hated each other? Surely not, Harry thought: it had not been a secret that the animosity between them had lessened over the time they had spent together in Grimmauld Place, even if the reasons behind it had been. But still, Severus was a private person, and some of the students had been at Hogwarts when Harry was a pupil and Snape a teacher. Harry was hardly expecting him to kiss him in the corridor or hold his hand over breakfast. 

So, it was with a feeling of great trepidation that Harry left his rooms for the Great Hall where the sorting ceremony and the first feast of the year would take place. When he arrived, Severus was nowhere to be seen which, Harry thought, was hardly surprising – he was definitely not the sort of person who would arrive early at an event purely for small talk. He sought out Minerva and thanked her, again, for the position. 

Ten minutes later (during which Harry had talked Minerva through his entire curriculum, and she had reminded him that he had sent all of this through to her in the summer, but that she was very glad that he was raring to go), Harry felt Severus come up behind him, his robes brush against Harry’s back and arm as he stood, slightly too close, just as the gong announced that dinner was to be served. As Minerva rushed away to prepare for her beginning of term speech, Severus came around to face Harry. 

‘Hello.’ He said still standing dangerously close. Harry was so stunned he could barely speak, and when he did not reply Severus raised an eyebrow at him. 

‘Are you coming to dinner, Professor Potter?’ He asked, scoffing slightly at ‘Professor’, still evidently mystified by the fact that Harry had managed to become a teacher. 

‘Bet you never thought you’d call me that when you first met me.’ Harry joked as he turned to walk with Severus towards the teachers table. 

‘There are a lot of things I never imagined I would be calling you, Potter.’ Snape drawled, and Harry practically choked. Perhaps he had been wrong about how Severus would be treating him this year. As they reached the table, Severus pulled a chair out and indicated that Harry should sit in it, taking the seat next to him for himself, and Harry laughed – he had obviously been worrying about nothing. 

‘What is wrong with you this evening Potter?’ Snape barked, obviously taken aback by Harry’s laughing. 

‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.’ He replied, brushing his hand quickly over Severus’ as Minerva began her speech.

Severus rolled his eyes – he feared he was never going to understand the workings of the idiot boy’s mind. 

-

Later that night, Harry was back to pacing his rooms again. At the end of the meal Severus had subtly brushed his lips against Harry’s ear, just as all the other teachers were standing up to leave and whispered ‘Come down to my rooms tonight’, and Harry was agitated. It was well past eleven, and he knew that all the students would be in bed, but the idea of getting this wrong and outing his and Severus’ relationship filled him with dread. Other than with him, Severus was not an open person, and he had half a feeling that under the scrutiny of not only the other teachers, but the whole wizarding world, who would undoubtedly find out immediately because someone was bound to tell a journalist, he would drop Harry as fast as he could. 

After several more journeys around his room in which he weighed up the disastrous effects of him being caught in Severus’ rooms, Harry finally grabbed his invisibility cloak and wrapped it round himself before making his way carefully down to the dungeons, placated slightly by the total silence of the castle around him. He knocked softly on Snape’s door and it clicked open seconds later. Harry entered the room, his cloak still wrapped around himself, and Snape snorted. 

‘You are aware I presume, Mr Potter that you are no longer a student at this school? That teachers are in fact allowed to roam the corridors at night?’ 

‘Of course I am.’ Harry retorted. ‘I just didn’t want to run into anyone, that’s all.’ 

‘Hmm’ Severus replied, gesturing for Harry to come and join him on the sofa. 

‘I missed you.’ Harry admitted softly once he had settled into Severus’ side, unsure whether this was the right thing to say.

Severus scoffed again, but pressed his lips to the top of Harry’s head, and he was sure he heard him mutter ‘Foolish boy’, which he reckoned was as close as he was going to get as an admission that Severus had felt the same. 

Harry shifted himself so that he was straddling Severus’ lap and Severus’ wrapped his arms around Harry’s back so that his hands were resting softly on the small of his back.

‘This was what you invited me down for, I presume.’ Harry said. 

‘For the first time in your life, Mr Potter, you are correct.’ 

‘Hilarious.’ 

‘Brat.’ 

‘Are you planning on kissing me or not?’ Harry asked, his voice low and breathless, his lips hovering over Severus’, who did not need any other invitation and pulled his arms more fully around Harry, kissing him. Harry’s tongue lapped over Severus’ languorously and Severus sighed into Harry’s mouth as Harry’s hands wove through the strands of his hair. 

-

The next morning Harry woke with his legs tangled in Severus’, the older man’s body wrapped around his own. It was just past six in the morning and light was beginning to stream in from outside, playing on Severus’ face, and a single strand of hair hung, suspended above his lips as he breathed evenly. 

Harry allowed himself to watch Severus in this totally unmasked state just for a moment. And then he kissed him, very softly, smiling as Severus stirred. 

‘Morning.’ Harry said, his voice still low with sleep. 

Severus raised his eyebrows, evidently incapable of speech at this early hour.

‘Do you want me to go back to my rooms?’ Harry asked, still not quite able to will himself to disentangle himself from Severus’ limbs. ‘It’s still early, no one would see me.’ 

‘Harry.’ Severus said, his voice suddenly serious as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, ‘we are not teenagers, nor are we students at this school. There are no rules that state that we may not come up to breakfast from the same room. I am not suggesting that we start consorting in corridors, but there is really no point in running around like criminals.’ 

‘What?’ Said Harry, confused, his mind still blurry from sleep. ‘Are you saying that you want people to know?’ 

‘Well I don’t exactly plan on going up to the headmistress and announcing that you spent last night in my bed, but I see no point in actively trying to hide it.’ 

Harry was so stunned that he couldn’t think of anything at all to say, and just stared at Severus, still supine and looking up at him. 

‘What?’ Severus asked, when Harry did not reply. 

‘I never thought you’d want people to know. I thought that if other people found out you’d find a way to end it, make out like it never happened.’ His voice was quiet, and he could feel the beginnings of hot tears pricking at the back of his throat and he wished they wouldn’t. He didn’t want to seem like a child who couldn’t control his emotions in front of Severus so he pushed them back. 

‘Harry we are long passed that.’ Severus said, his voice low and rumbling, lifting his arm so that Harry could move closer to him and wrap his arms around his waist. ‘Would you have hidden forever if I had asked you to?’ 

‘Probably.’ Harry said in a voice so small Severus could hardly hear it. 

‘Harry.’ Severus began, resting his arm around Harry’s back. ‘I know you would not have wanted to hide half of your life from everyone you know. So why would you have been willing to do that for me, without even wanting to discuss it?’ 

‘I don’t know.’ Harry mumbled into Severus’ side, wishing Severus wasn’t so good at reading him. ‘I just didn’t want to make things difficult for you.’ 

‘Even if that made things difficult for you?’ 

Harry shrugged, biting the inside of his lip as tears threatened to appear again. 

‘You know, Harry, it’s alright to want things from other people. I’m not going to be angry with you if you ask me to do something for you. I am not saying I will always agree, but you should always ask.’ 

‘I don’t want to be a burden to you.’ Harry replied, now fiddling with the tie on Severus’ pyjamas agitatedly. 

‘You are not a burden to me.’ Severus said seriously. There was a long pause then, in which Severus considered whether what he was about to say would anger Harry, but he felt Harry press himself more firmly against him and decided it probably needed to be said. ‘I know your aunt and uncle never allowed you to ask anything from them.’ Severus felt Harry tense under his arm, but he continued regardless. ‘But the way they were treating you is not the way that a healthy relationship should be, Harry, and you should never feel like accepting scraps is all you are worth, because nothing could be further from the truth.’ 

Tears were threatening to choke Harry again and he still could not explain why he had not yet learned to hold himself together. Half a sob broke from him as he pressed his face into Severus’ side and Severus sighed. 

‘I really am truly sorry that you were treated that way, Harry.’ 

‘S’not your fault.’ Harry said thickly into the soft material of Severus’ pyjamas. 

‘No.’ Severus said softly. 

‘I don’t know why it affects me like this, it’s infuriating.’ Harry said, the anger at himself evident in his voice. ‘I wish it wasn’t so hard for me to trust that people aren’t going to hurt me. It’s not like I don’t know you care about me, it’s just that my head is adamant that if I want more than the bare minimum from anyone then they’ll find me annoying or childish.’ Harry had sat up now, his body turned so that he was facing Severus. 

‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Harry. Truly, I understand.’ Severus replied, his voice low and measured. 

‘How did you learn?’ Harry asked. 

‘I’m afraid I don’t think I did. You, Harry, are an exception, but I am sure you have witnessed how I treat anyone else who attempts to help me.’ Severus said. ‘You are coping remarkably better than I was at your age.’ 

‘Is that why you became a Death Eater, then?’ Harry asked.

Severus seemed to flinch slightly at the mention of his past and he was silent for a moment, before replying ‘Yes.’ His voice sounded more ashen than Harry had ever heard it. ‘I was alone, and power seemed far safer than any other kind of connection. A very poor error in judgement.’ 

‘Perhaps. But I understand why you did it.’ 

Severus was silent for a moment, and he stared at Harry, something close to fondness on his face. 

‘Are you still seeing a mind healer?’ He asked, his voice soft. 

‘Yeah.’ Harry said, shuffling across the bed so he could sit next to Severus again. 

‘And is it helping?’ 

‘I guess so.’ Harry said, sighing as Severus wrapped an arm around his shoulders. ‘I certainly feel less, I don’t know, empty inside? And I don’t dream about it so much anymore.’ He said, settling into Severus’ side. 

‘Good.’ Severus said, running his fingers through Harry’s hair. ‘I’m glad you’re keeping up with it, Harry, you seem a lot more at peace than you did a few months ago.’ 

‘I am.’ 

-

Over the next few months Harry and Severus appeared at breakfast more often than not together, often appearing from Severus’ rooms in the dungeon. Harry was astonished that not one person had commented on it. True, no one had ever seen he and Severus leave his rooms together, but people had seen them sitting together at meal times, talking amicably in the corridors, and even if the students weren’t aware of his and Snape’s previous awful relationship he was sure the staff were. 

Close to Christmas, Minerva invited Harry into her office to discuss his progress over the first term. He was not nervous – somewhat miraculously there had been no mishaps in his classes, and he was sure that in comparison to some of the teaching he had received whilst a student at the school he was doing just fine. 

Minerva was of the same opinion and congratulated him – she had heard nothing but positive reviews from students about his teaching, even from those students whose parents had once had less than savoury connections to Voldemort. 

Harry beamed as Minerva concluded the conversation. Thinking back to the time when he had been an Auror, and the shame he had felt at having to leave his job, he could not be happier now, or gladder that he had made the decision. 

‘Oh and Potter,’ Minerva began as Harry drained his tea cup, readying himself to leave. ‘I am so glad you and Professor Snape are getting along.’ 

Harry tensed in his chair, horribly afraid that she was going to tell him off for what he and Severus were doing. 

‘It was about time you two stopped getting at each other’s throats and if the student’s comments are anything to go by, you seem to be doing him the world of good.’ She said, smiling and looking over her glasses at Harry, who heaved a sigh of relief. She knew, and she didn’t mind. 

-

Harry had spent Christmas day with the Weasleys. It had been nice, homely (even if he had been showered with food by Molly, who had told him several times that he was terribly thin and he really needed to eat more.) Some time after lunch Ron had cornered him alone in the sitting room to ask him about his strange friendship with Severus Snape. 

‘We got close during the war.’ Harry had said. They were treading around the real issue. Harry knew that Ron wasn’t stupid, and he knew that although he and Severus had never done anything in public to show what they had been doing in Grimmauld Place, the simple fact that Harry was never in his bed at night, and that Severus had allowed him to see him when he was weak, was enough for most people, even those who were as unobservant as Ron, to see that something was happening. 

‘I know mate.’ Ron said. ‘Ginny’s friends in the seventh year say you’re still quite close. That you sit together at meal times and are always talking to each other in the corridors. One of them even said that,’ and then he paused, as if he could not quite bring himself to continue, ‘she said that she saw you coming out of his rooms together one morning.’ The final sentence was garbled, as if Ron had wanted to get it out as quickly as possible, before he could chicken out of saying it. 

Harry’s stomach clenched anxiously, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Ron an outright lie. And, to be honest, he was tired of hiding his relationship, especially as Severus didn’t seem to mind people knowing. 

‘Are you, you know, Harry?’ Ron asked, skirting the issue again. 

Harry took in a deep breath and then said, finally, ‘Yes.’ 

Ron balked at him for a second; he had obviously not thought that Harry would admit it. Then, surprisingly, he went on, ‘well, if he makes you happy mate, then that’s good I guess. You certainly seem a lot better than you did after the war.’ 

‘I am.’ Harry said simply. ‘And he is, you know, a good man, Ron.’ 

‘Rather you than me, but if you say so.’ 

Harry smiled at him, the final bit of tension that had been hanging over him since he and Severus had got back together lifting. 

‘Hey Ron,’ he said as they made to go back to the dining room together, ‘how long did Hermione have to coach you on that answer before you agreed to it?’ he asked, smirking. 

‘About two weeks.’ Ron admitted. ‘I really do mean it though Harry, it was just a bit of a weird thought at first, you know? Hermione seemed to think it made perfect sense so that’s something, I suppose.’ 

‘Yeah, don’t worry, I get it. To be honest I thought it was a bit weird at first as well.’ Harry said, still smiling. 

-

As evening drew in Harry prepared to floo back to Hogwarts, kissing Ron and Hermione both on the cheek before saying ‘Severus Snape’s quarters’ (there was no need to keep any pretences up any more) and leaving the Weasleys’ house. 

He landed rather unceremoniously in a heap on Severus’ fireplace, and as he attempted to pick himself up he heard Severus scoff slightly. The man was sitting in the armchair directly opposite the fire, a glass of firewhiskey in his right hand. As Harry eventually managed to stand up and dust himself off he saw Severus raise an eyebrow in his direction, a smirk on his lips. 

‘You are completely and utterly ridiculous, Potter.’ He said, his voice sleek, like silk. 

‘And a Happy Christmas to you to Severus.’ Harry replied, coming over to drape himself across Severus’ lap and kiss him softly on the mouth. 

‘Happy Christmas.’ Severus replied, gruffly and without much feeling, as if this was not something he said to people very often.

Harry shifted on Severus’ lap so that he was straddling him, his hands coming around Severus’ back to curl in the soft material of his robes. 

‘Did you miss me today?’ Harry asked, his lips tantalisingly close to Severus’. 

‘You were gone for barely eight hours, Harry.’ 

‘I know, but did you miss me?’ 

‘No.’ Severus said, but as his mouth closed over Harry’s and his tongue lapped over the inside of his mouth, Harry knew that he had. 

‘I missed you.’ Harry said quietly against Severus’ lips, and Severus grunted incomprehensibly, before lacing his fingers through Harry’s hair and pulling him down into another kiss, harder this time, more forceful as he pushed his tongue into Harry’s mouth, his hands pulling on the dark strands of his hair. 

Harry moaned into Severus mouth and Severus felt him hardening as he ground his crotch wantonly into his side. 

He muttered a featherlight charm over Harry’s body before standing, Harry’s legs wrapping around his waist and his arms tightening around his neck. 

‘Severus?’ Harry questioned as Severus began to walk towards his office door. 

‘Just do as your told, Potter.’ He replied, his voice dark and low, and Harry gasped, pressing his face into Severus’ neck. 

The short journey was broken by several long kisses against the walls of Severus’ living room, Harry tightening his legs’ grip on Severus’ waist as he attempted to grind down on it. When they finally reached his office, Severus placed Harry down on the desk, his legs dangling over the edge, Severus’ hot breath coming erratically on Harry’s face as he pulled away from the kiss.

‘Sit still.’ He instructed, towering over Harry’s form on the desk and running a hand lightly down his side. When his hand eventually reached the fabric of Harry’s jeans he pulled back, stepping away from Harry. 

‘Remove your trousers, Potter. And your shirt.’ He commanded, his voice rumbling in his chest. 

‘Yes, Professor.’ Harry replied, his voice placid and innocent as he divested himself of his clothes, having finally caught on to what Snape was doing. 

A growl emanated from somewhere inside Snape’s chest at the use of this title and he went to kneel on the stone floor in front of Harry’s legs. 

Severus pressed his hands into the tops of Harry’s thighs and pushed them open, Harry moaning his name softly again as Severus’ mouth hung just inches from his straining cock. He tried to buck forward to reach Snape’s mouth, but Snape pulled away, his grip still form on Harry’s thighs. 

‘Behave yourself, Potter.’ Severus said warningly, his voice soft but still laced with authority, obviously enjoying Harry’s desperation. 

‘Please, Professor.’ Harry keened, his voice low and breathless as Severus began to lick up Harry’s thigh slowly, his tongue hot and wet against Harry’s skin, but the more Harry begged the slower his tongue moved. 

Eventually, Severus relented, enclosing Harry’s cock in tight heat as he pulled its entire length into his mouth. 

Harry shuddered violently, his whole body convulsing as Severus began to move his mouth slowly up and down his shaft, and Severus felt himself harden uncomfortably inside the confines of his trousers as Harry lay back on the desk, his hands grasping desperately for something to hold onto as he came apart. 

‘Close.’ Harry moaned as he pressed himself back into the desk. ‘I’m so close, Professor.’ 

Severus pulled his mouth away, allowing Harry’s cock to fall from his lips and Harry practically howled in frustration, his body trembling in anticipation.

‘I believe, Mr Potter, I said something about behaving.’ He said, leaning forwards so that his mouth was ghosting the shell of Harry’s ear, his breath hot on Harry’s neck and he squirmed in pleasure. ‘You will not be coming until I have granted you permission to do so.’ He whispered. 

‘Yes, Sir.’ Harry moaned, still wriggling on the table. 

Severus began to lick and suck at the sensitive skin on Harry’s neck before moving back up to his ear and whispering 

‘I want to be inside you when you come, Harry.’ 

Harry moaned again, completely strung out as he lay on the desk, Severus’ hands now holding him in place by the shoulders. As Severus entered Harry he hissed in pleasure as he was surrounded by him. It only took a few strokes over the sensitive bundle of nerves inside Harry for him to begin to come apart, bucking up against Severus’ stomach as he did so. 

‘Please, Professor. Please, let me come.’ He moaned, looking up desperately into Severus’ eyes. 

Severus stared back at him for a moment silently, ceasing his thrusting, and the breath seemed to catch in Harry’s throat as he forced his hips to still. 

‘Yes, you may come, Harry.’ He said finally, bringing his hand to surround Harry’s cock and fisting it up and down as he began pushing himself in and out of Harry again and Harry wailed in pleasure, pushing his hips up a few times to meet Severus’ hand before covering his stomach with hot white liquid and collapsing back onto the desk, trembling. Severus only needed a few more thrusts before he too came, shuddering and collapsing against Harry’s body and the desk.   
-

The start of the second term at Hogwarts brought with it the looming of the first anniversary of Voldemort’s death. Harry had started the term well, but as the anniversary of the day he had first committed murder approached, sleep became difficult for him and he began to lie awake at night, forcing his eyes open to stop himself from dreaming. He found reason after reason not to go down and see Severus, but he could tell that the man was getting suspicious. Even the students had started noticing that he was looking grey and haggard from lack of sleep and twice over the last week Minerva had cornered him in the corridor and asked him if he might like to go to the hospital wing because he was looking decidedly under the weather, but Harry had simply replied that he was tired from marking. Minerva had not looked convinced, but had allowed him to get away with it nonetheless. 

It was a Thursday morning and Harry had just sat down next to Severus at the table for breakfast, his body bowing slightly over his bowl as he filled it. The previous night he had told Severus that he was too tired to come down and see him and Severus had yet again seemed unconvinced, but how could Harry explain the return of the hopeless empty feeling he had become so used to after the end of the war. 

‘You still look tired, Harry.’ Severus began. Harry could practically taste the pity in his voice and something heavy and uncomfortable began to weigh on his stomach. He hated people feeling sorry for him. He didn’t feel like he deserved it, and even if he did, he had no idea what to do with it. 

‘I’m fine.’ Harry spat, more aggressively than he had intended to, buttering his toast so forcefully that it cracked all over the surface. ‘And I don’t appreciate your pity.’ 

‘You’re acting like a child, Potter.’ Severus hissed, warning evident in his voice. 

‘Will you just leave me alone.’ Harry had raised his voice and the other teachers were beginning to look at him now. ‘I said I’m fine and I meant it, Snape.’ He growled, his voice low and quiet again. 

‘As you wish.’ Severus said, his voice low and dangerous, and he stalked out of the dining room. Harry stared at his disfigured toast, his anger simmering down and being replaced by shame. He hadn’t meant to talk to Severus like that.

He found the man outside his classroom just before lunch. 

‘Severus?’ He said, his voice quiet and his body sagging, the deep entrenched tiredness catching up with him. 

‘You made it perfectly clear, Mr Potter, that you did not wish to speak to me earlier.’ Severus’ voice was still low and angry, and if the looks on his student’s faces were anything to go by, he had spent the morning terrorising them. 

‘I know,’ he started, his voice shaking a little, ‘but I,’ 

‘But nothing, Mr Potter. If you do not wish to talk to me, then you do not wish to talk to me. Now if you will excuse me, I really do not have time to be dealing with any more children today.’ Severus spat, glaring at Harry as he swept away down the corridor. 

The rest of Harry’s day went by in a blur and all he could see in his mind was the disgust in Severus’ eyes. He finally fell asleep just after two in the morning, but he tossed fitfully and woke not an hour later, coughing and choking as a scream tried to force its way out of his throat. Fear raced through him as he tried to pull himself out of the dream. He was not an Auror any more, he told himself. He was no longer fighting for his life, no longer responsible for the lives of other people, no longer a killer. But the more he tried to rid himself of the images of the dead, the more they swam before his eyes in the darkness. All he wanted was to curl up next to Severus and still, but he couldn’t because Severus wasn’t speaking to him. 

But Harry couldn’t breath and his skin burned with hatred for himself, and all he could think of was Severus’ cool body and being wrapped up in his soft breathing. And so, because there was nothing else he could do, he wrapped his invisibility cloak around himself and walked tentatively down to Severus’ quarters. 

However, by the time he had reached the door his confidence in his actions had disappeared. He raised his hand as if to knock on Severus’ door and then pulled it back. Severus did not want to see him – it was almost three in the morning. Harry couldn’t bear to think of how angry he would be if he woke him in the middle of the night because he couldn’t sleep. Because he had had a nightmare. Just like a child, Severus was right, Harry thought bitterly. He sank down to the floor, the cloak still pressed around him and shook with the cold, and with the abject fear of sleep, not quite able to drag himself back up to his rooms and further away from Severus. Eventually, however, tiredness got the better of him and he fell into another fitful sleep, still pressed up against cold, hard wall by the entrance to Snape’s rooms. 

-

Severus was still fuming with anger, although now (though he hated to admit it) it was more directed at himself than at Harry, when he left his rooms the next morning. As he stepped outside his quarters, huffing irately with each step, he walked straight into an object that was not there. He stumbled backwards, hissing obscenities in irritation before leaning down to investigate what it was that was blocking his path. As he did so, Harry woke, fear racing through his body as he realised where he was. Severus pulled the cloak off him just as Harry scrambled to his feet, dusting off his pyjamas as if this would hide the fact that he was wearing them and had obviously been there all night. 

The irate tension that had strung Severus’ body up seemed to fall away as he stared at Harry, who was leaning against the wall for support, his face an ashen grey. 

‘Harry?’ Severus said in such a soft voice that Harry almost forgot that he was angry with him. 

‘S-sorry.’ Harry stuttered, turning around and starting to rush back up the corridor, but Snape caught his arm. 

‘Harry, have you been here all night?’ Severus asked, his voice still soft. 

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you.’ Harry’s gaze was firmly fixed on the floor, his face burning. How could he have been so stupid? He had no idea what Severus would think of the whole situation, but after the argument yesterday about Harry’s childishness, he was sure that it would not end well. 

But, to Harry’s surprise, Severus pushed him gently inside his rooms and closed the door behind them, guiding Harry to the sofa and sitting down next to him, closing his hands around Harry’s when they would not cease from picking at his pyjama trousers nervously. 

‘Why were you sleeping in the corridor, Harry?’ Severus asked gently. 

‘I don’t know.’ Harry said, his voice quiet and almost shaking. ‘I couldn’t sleep and I wanted to see you, so I came down, but it was late, and I didn’t want to annoy you when you were already annoyed at me, so I just sort of sat down. And I guess I fell asleep, but I didn’t mean to.’

Severus sighed heavily, wrapping his arms around Harry and pulling him so he was sitting over his lap. 

‘I am so sorry, Harry.’ He said into Harry’s hair, regret deep in his voice ‘I was very unfair on you yesterday. I should never have made you feel as if you couldn’t come to me if you needed me. It was unforgivable.’ 

‘So, so you’re not angry with me anymore?’ Harry ventured. 

‘No.’ Snape said softly. ‘I should never have been angry with you in the first place. You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, it’s not my right to know what is going on in your mind. And it certainly is not childish to be affected by war, especially when you were forced into a prominent role at such a young age, nor is it childish to want to talk to me about it.’ 

They were silent for a moment, Harry’s slight shaking being calmed by the gentle thump of Severus’ heartbeat. 

‘I can’t stop thinking about it.’ Harry said after a while. ‘It’s been almost a year and I can’t think about anything else. And when I close my eyes it’s all I see. I just want it to stop, but I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’m so tired, Severus. I just want to sleep and not wake up screaming because of all of the people I’ve killed.’ 

Severus pressed his eyes closed for a moment, holding Harry closer to him. He shouldn’t really be surprised, he supposed. Even he still had dreams about it all, and he had gone into it prepared, an adult. But for Harry a childhood of not being wanted had turned into being raised as an expendable weapon and a killer, it was no wonder his mind was working against him.

‘You have been at war with yourself for far too long, Harry.’ Severus said, his voice quiet and low. ‘You know I know how difficult it is to forgive yourself for what you have done in the past, even if, in your case, none of it was your own fault, but as long as you cannot accept that you are not responsible for those people’s deaths your dreams will only get worse.’ 

‘I know. I know that. And I really have been feeling better about it until recently, with it being, you know, a year and everything. And objectively I know I wasn’t to blame, but when I dream about it, it all just seems so real again, and when I see all those bodies all I can think is that I should have done better.’ 

‘I understand,’ Severus replied, ‘And it was always going to be worse with the anniversary coming up. Just, please, try not to be so hard on yourself, Harry.’ 

‘Says the man who has been hard on me for most of my living memory.’ Harry joked, pressing himself closer to Severus’s chest, calmed slightly by its regular rising and falling. 

‘Perhaps, but you always deserved it, Potter.’ Severus drawled. 

‘I can’t believe it’s been almost a year since the end of the war.’ Harry said after a long pause. ‘It feels like barely any time at all, and yet it almost feels like it happened to a different person. I wish I could properly get it into my head that I don’t have to go back and fight, but it just doesn’t seem to stick. I still wake up feeling like I’m going right back into battle and it scares me.’ 

‘I assure you, you will get there eventually. After all, the war has been going on, even if somewhat in the background, for all of your life.’ Severus said, his arms still holding Harry firmly in place and Harry was glad of it. Severus grounded him, made him feel like he knew what he was and where he was going even when he felt totally lost. 

‘I suppose.’ Harry replied. 

‘I for one cannot believe that the Ministry is forcing us to all go through the ordeal of an anniversary ball, as if we are not all traumatised enough without having to force out silted conversation all evening and pretend to be interested in each other.’ Snape said, bitterness thick on his tongue. 

‘You know, Severus, some people actually like balls. They’re supposed to be fun.’ 

‘Hmm.’ Snape grumbled, unconvinced. 

‘Will you come?’ Harry asked, the hope so evident in his voice Severus couldn’t bear to say no. 

‘I don’t suppose I will have much choice, from you or from the Ministry.’ 

‘I like to think I’m a lot more convincing than the Ministry.’ Harry replied, smirking a little. 

‘That you are, but you still look terrible; you should go back to bed.’ Severus replied, cocking an eyebrow a little.

‘I can’t, Severus, I have to teach.’

‘Oh don’t be ridiculous, Potter, you can barely stand up. Absolutely not. You are going back to bed. I will inform Minerva.’ 

Harry was too tired to argue and so allowed Severus to lead him to his bedroom and lift off the covers for him, basking in the warmth that bloomed in his chest as Severus pulled the covers up around him and smoothed the hair off his face. 

‘Drink this.’ He said, handing Harry a vial of potion. ‘Dreamless sleep.’ 

‘Thanks.’ Harry said, draining it and lying back down under the covers. 

‘Sleep well.’ 

And Harry did, free from unwanted dreams and surrounded by the woody pine of Severus’ scent. 

He did not wake until after four o’clock in the afternoon, by which point it was practically dark again. When Severus arrived back in his rooms an hour later Harry was curled in his armchair reading, a cup of coffee resting on the table beside him. 

‘You look much better.’ Severus said, sitting down on the sofa opposite him. 

‘I feel it.’ Harry replied, his voice far lighter than it had been earlier that morning. 

‘If you are planning on coming up to dinner through, you might want to consider getting dressed.’ 

‘Is it that late already?’ Harry asked, his voice incredulous as he pushed himself out of his chair. ‘I’ll see you there, I guess. I haven’t washed today so I should probably have a shower as well.’ 

Severus raised his eyebrows but did not respond, so Harry took this as his cue to leave. 

After dinner, he had returned to Severus’ rooms. They had passed the evening playing chess and Severus had, of course, won every single game, sometimes so quickly Harry hadn’t even had a chance to realise what was happening. 

‘Could you not let me win?’ He moaned. ‘Just once, Snape. You know, for my self-confidence.’ 

‘Your self-confidence is just fine, Potter. Do stop whining.’ 

‘Hmph.’ Harry replied, looking unimpressed. 

‘You should go to bed Harry; you still look shattered.’ Severus said, his tone softening somewhat. 

‘I will if you come with me.’ Harry said, standing and walking over to sit on the floor by Severus’ legs, resting his head on Severus’ lap. 

‘Is that so?’ Severus drawled. 

‘Yes, Severus.’ 

‘And if I take you to bed are you going to be good, Harry?’ Severus said, his voice soft like dark velvet, understanding what Harry needed. 

‘I’ll be very good.’ Harry replied, his voice light with breath. 

‘Come on then, Potter. You will have to extricate yourself from my legs if you want me to come with you.’ 

Harry stood up slowly, allowing Severus to take his hand and lead him into the bedroom. Severus sank down onto the bed, indicating to Harry that he should straddle his lap, and Harry wrapped his legs around Severus’ waist loosely, resting his forehead against the older man’s as Severus ran the tips of his fingers up and down Harry’s sides under his shirt. 

‘I think this will have to come off.’ Severus said, his voice so low Harry could feel it rumble in the chest that was pressed up against his own. 

‘Yes, Severus.’ He said again, calmer than he had felt in weeks. 

‘Good boy.’ Severus whispered, his lips ghosting the shell of Harry’s ear, and Harry shuddered in anticipation, pressing himself close to Severus again once he had removed his shirt, looping his arms around Severus’ neck and hissing in pleasure as Severus began to kiss very softly down his neck, pausing at his collar bone to suck, leaving a trail of purpling marks behind him. After a moment, Severus rolled so that Harry was pinned underneath him, pressing him into the mattress with the weight of his body. 

‘And these as well, I think.’ He said, gesturing to Harry’s trousers, which Harry obediently removed as Severus divested himself of his own clothes. Once unclothed, Severus pressed his body over Harry’s protectively, bringing his mouth down over Harry’s. 

Harry moaned as Severus slipped his tongue over Harry’s lips, opening his mouth to allow Severus to taste him, a sigh escaping him as Severus’ tongue ran slowly over his own. The taste of Severus was so sweet, so familiar, and Harry screwed his eyes shut, his fingers digging into the skin on Severus’ back. Harry’s hips began pressing up into Severus, trying to rock against him, feeling himself harden against Severus’s thigh, but Severus pulled his hands down from where they had been flickering over Harry’s nipples to still his hips. 

‘I thought you were being good for me, Harry.’ Severus said, his voice low and silken. 

‘I am.’ Harry moaned, still trying to push his hips up to meet Severus’ thigh which was now a tantalising distance away.

‘If you want to be good.’ He said, his mouth so close to Harry’s that Harry could taste the air from Severus’ lungs, pull it into his own, ‘then you will have to be patient. Do you want to be a good boy, Harry?’ 

‘Yes. Yes.’ Harry moaned. ‘I want to be a good boy.’ 

‘Alright.’ Severus replied, his lips closing over Harry’s once more, eventually indulging Harry by running one hand up his thigh to grip around his cock which was now straining upwards. At the touch Harry bucked forward into Severus’ hand, a mewl escaping onto Severus’ lips. 

Severus sank between Harry’s legs, taking the end of his pulsing cock and running his tongue over it, before licking once firmly up the underside of the shaft. Harry trembled, a low moan escaping his lips as his fists clenched in the soft blankets. Severus began to run his tongue lower until he was licking firmly against Harry’s opening, pressing his hands over Harry’s hips into the bed to lessen his squirming. Very gently he pressed one finger into Harry, feeling gratified by the gasp that escaped Harry as he did so. He pumped it in and out a few times before adding a second and capturing Harry’s cock in his mouth, running his mouth up and down over it. 

Pleasure burned through Harry as Severus pressed his fingers time and time again over the sensitive spot inside him and he screamed Severus’ name as Severus continued to engulf him in tight, wet heat. 

Severus pulled his fingers out of Harry and allowed his still rock hard cock to fall from his mouth. Harry moaned with the loss, but Severus stroked a hand up his trembling side and he stilled, allowing Severus to sink himself into him. 

‘Alright?’ He asked as he let Harry get used to the feeling of being filled by him. 

Harry nodded, evidently unable to speak he was so far gone. 

‘Good boy.’ Severus murmured, running his fingers through Harry’s hair as he began to thrust himself in and out of Harry’s opening, pulling Harry’s cock into his hand and allowing Harry to buck his hips into him. It was all Harry needed to lose himself and he cried out, hot pleasure searing through his body as he came, Severus whispering ‘Good boy’ again into his ear. 

Harry slumped backwards onto the bed just as Severus gave one final thrust and too came, softening inside Harry and pulling himself out. He muttered a cleaning charm before moving back up the bed to lie beside Harry and pulling the covers around them, wrapping an arm around his side and encouraging his head onto his chest. Harry’s breathing was even and he rested an arm over Severus’ stomach, entwining their legs together. 

‘I love you.’

I love you too.’ Severus replied, his voice gentle as he wove his fingers through Harry’s hair. 

‘I’m glad I’m here with you. It’s so cold in the dark when you’re not there.’ Harry said softly, his hand curling around the edge of the covers. 

‘Ridiculous boy.’ Severus replied, but he was smiling. 

-

Severus woke with a start later in the early hours of the morning. In the darkness Harry was kicking out violently against him, his hands grasping for something invisible and he was crying out, his breathing shallow and haggard. 

‘Harry.’ Severus said firmly, strong enough to wake him, but not enough to shock him. Harry began to thrash more and Severus scrambled to sit up in bed to avoid being kicked again, pressing his hands gently onto Harry’s shoulders to still him slightly. 

‘Harry.’ He said again, shaking him a little and Harry started, sitting up, still flailing and drawing in on himself. He was gasping for air, choking on it as he hyperventilated, his eyes darting around the room, confused and afraid. 

‘Harry, breathe.’ Severus said calmly, grabbing Harry’s flailing hands and bringing them together in his lap, but Harry did not seem to be hearing Severus, too tied up in his own mind with whatever he had been dreaming about. Severus brought one of Harry’s hands up and pressed it to the side of his ribcage. 

‘Slow breaths.’ He instructed, moving so that he was looking straight into Harry’s eyes. ‘Follow my breathing Harry, in and out.’ He said, punctuating the last by the rise and fall of his chest. 

‘That’s it, good.’ Severus said softly as Harry’s breathing began to calm down. ‘Good boy.’ He murmured, still holding Harry’s hand to his ribcage, but allowing him to collapse against his chest. 

Harry remained still, his head bowed and resting against Severus’ chest, his breathing still laboured, but slowing, and his eyes screwed shut. He could hear Severus murmuring something to him as one of his hands came to rest on the nape of his neck, his fingers stroking though his hair slowly, but Harry’s mind was still so much in the place it had been when he had awoken (it was Cedric and the graveyard again. It was always the graveyard.) that he could not concentrate on what Severus was saying. However, the low rumble of his voice was enough to calm him slightly, Severus’ woody musk washing over him as he breathed in. 

By the time Harry lifted his head a low light was beginning to stream in at the edges of the windows. 

‘Thanks.’ He said, his voice still shaking slightly. ‘And, sorry.’ He added, shaking his head slightly. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you up.’ 

‘That is quite alright.’ Severus said, placing a finger under Harry’s chin and raising his head so that he could look him in the eye. ‘You know I don’t mind.’ 

Harry smiled softly (about as much as he could manage), before crawling onto Severus’ lap and wrapping his arms around him, lying his head on Severus’ shoulder. 

‘I don’t much feel like going back to sleep.’ Harry said after a moment. 

‘I think, under the circumstances, that would probably not be for the best.’ Severus replied.

They showered and dressed silently. Harry, who was still recovering from the aftereffects of his total lack of sleep over the last week was much slower than Severus and by the time he was ready Severus was sitting in his armchair sipping coffee, swathed in layer upon layer of black robes. Upon seeing Harry though, he stood up, setting down his coffee on the side table. 

‘Come on.’ He said, handing Harry his thick winter cloak. ‘We’re going outside.’ 

‘For what?’ Harry asked, bemused. 

‘Breakfast.’ Severus said simply, opening the door to his rooms and shuffling Harry out of it.’ 

‘But Severus,’ Harry said, ‘It’s barely five in the morning, the great hall won’t be open yet.’ 

Severus rolled his eyes despairingly as he and Harry walked out of the castle and into the grounds. ‘You are aware, I presume, of the presence of House Elves in this castle.’ 

‘Right.’ Said Harry. ‘Oh yeah. I forgot about that.’ 

Severus, of course, was right, and as they sat down by the edge of the lake a rack of toast appeared, as well as two cups of coffee, one of which he handed to Harry. 

‘Feeling better?’ Severus asked, as Harry began to nibble at the edge of a piece of toast. 

‘Much.’ Harry said, his voice normal again. ‘It’s beautiful out here.’ The sun had risen and the sky had mostly lightened now. Although it was winter a few flowers were poking out of the grass, blue and white on the frosted ground. 

‘Good.’ Severus said, leaning to brush Harry’s hair out of his face tenderly. ‘Will you be going to see the mind healer today?’ He asked. 

‘Yeah, I have an appointment later.’ Harry said, staring out across the lake. 

‘Would you like me to come with you?’ Severus asked gently. ‘I don’t have to come in, but I could wait outside and travel with you if you wanted.’ 

‘Really?’ Harry asked, turning to stare in incredulous hope at Severus. 

‘Of course.’ 

Harry pushed the tray out of the way so that he could close the gap between them, allowing Severus to wrap his arm around Harry’s shoulders, his thick cloak shrouding both of them. 

‘Thank you.’ Harry said, his voice soft. ‘For being so supportive, I mean. I know it probably doesn’t come that naturally to you, but I really appreciate it.’ 

Severus hummed in response, pressing a chaste kiss to Harry’s hairline. 

‘That is quite alright.’ 

-

The anniversary ball did not occur until several months after the first anniversary of Harry killing Voldemort. (And the fact that this meant it was not really an anniversary ball was something Severus mentioned at least once a day in varying shades of exasperation.) By the time it came spring was turning to summer and the evenings were balmy and light. Harry had felt unlike himself for several weeks after he had slept outside Severus’ rooms, but as the official anniversary passed, so did Harry’s dwelling on those things he could not change about his life.

Harry sat at the desk in Severus’ chambers already dressed in deep green dress robes and chewing the end of his quill anxiously, the parchment in front of him blank. The closer the ball loomed the less Harry was looking forward to it. A month ago he had been asked (although there had been no possibility of him saying no – he had tried on multiple occasions) to give the keynote speech at the ball, and he had put off writing it until now, forty minutes before the ball began, and he had no idea what it was he was supposed to be saying. Several benefactors had made large donations to Hogwarts in the aftermath of the war and really the ball was an over the top thank you to them, but beyond this Harry couldn’t think of anything positive to say about the war whatsoever. They might have ‘won’, but that wasn’t much comfort to him when the cost of that had been so many lives. 

Worse still, two weeks ago he had been informed that the Minister for Magic had ordered extensive press coverage of the event. The last thing Harry wanted was to spend the whole evening being hounded by journalists, and he certainly didn’t want his photograph being taken constantly. It was not shaping up to be a pleasant evening. 

‘How is the great orator this evening?’ Came Severus’ low drawl from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame dressed in black velvet robes piped with silver, his hair (longer now than it had been during the war) pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. 

‘I think I’m just going to have to wing it.’ Harry said dropping his quill and laying his forehead on the desk. ‘I’m terrible at this kind of stuff, Severus, I don’t know why they’re making me do it.’ 

‘You’re their celebrity. They need a famous face for the benefactors.’ Severus replied, deadpan. 

‘Yeah well I wish it wasn’t bloody me. I’m fed up with all this celebrity crap, I’m a teacher for Christ’s sake.’ Harry lifted his head, looking despairingly at Severus. 

‘Well next year you’ll just have to be a bit more forceful with them, won’t you.’ Severus said, smirking at Harry from across the room. 

‘Bet they’d never have been able to force you to make a speech you didn’t want to make.’ Harry grumbled, standing to join Severus at the doorway, his speech left abandoned on the desk. 

‘You know they wouldn’t.’ Severus replied, his voice like silk as he lifted a hand to cup Harry’s face. ‘You’ll be fine. By the time you have to talk everyone will be drunk, they won’t be listening.’ 

‘I’m not sure if that’s comforting or not to be honest.’ Harry replied, leaning in to rest against Severus’ chest for a moment. ‘I just want to have a nice evening with you, is that so much to ask.’ 

‘From me, nice is a lot to ask, Potter, and you know it.’ Severus said. 

‘Hilarious.’ 

-

The beginning of the ball as far as Harry was concerned was nothing short of wonderful. Snape had branded it inoffensive, which was probably high praise. He and Severus had circled the great hall together nursing glasses of champagne and not one person had stared at them. Although they had never openly spoken about their relationship whilst at Hogwarts, (or given any of the students anything to gossip about), everyone at the ball seemed to know (Harry supposed this was at least in part due to any number of Weasleys being indiscreet with the information, but he did not care in the slightest) and more importantly, absolutely no one seemed to be interested. 

The hall had been decorated with garlands of leaves woven with summer flowers, and tiny charmed balls of light hung in the air a few feet above standing level. It was dusk and the light streaming from through the windows was low, but it was enough for Harry to see Severus and really, that was all he cared about. 

‘It looks like your garden.’ Severus said, pulling Harry from his ministrations. 

‘What does?’ Harry asked, still staring at Severus. 

‘The decorations. They could have been pulled straight from your garden.’ Severus clarified. 

‘Well the ball is in my honour after all.’ Harry joked

‘Let’s not start getting ideas above our station, Mr Potter.’ 

Harry hummed in response, taking Severus’ hand behind his back. ‘You know you love it.’ 

Severus had not had time to reply before a second later Harry had dropped his hand, recoiling. ‘Shit.’ He whispered. ‘The newspapers are here.’ 

‘Sorry.’ He continued after a pause, glancing back down at Snape’s now untouched hand, ‘I just don’t think I want this splashed all over the pages of the Daily Prophet. The world already knows far more about me than I’d like.’ 

‘You won’t be getting any complaints from me, Harry. I don’t like the idea any more than you do.’ Severus replied, his voice low. 

‘Ok.’ Said Harry. ‘But that means no touching until they’re gone. Think you can manage, Snape?’ He asked coyly. 

‘I’m sure I’ll cope.’ Severus said, raising an eyebrow at Harry. ‘Shouldn’t you be focussing on the task at hand, Potter? I believe you’ll be making that speech you have done absolutely no preparation for in a few moments.’ 

‘Crap.’ Harry swore. ‘How drunk do you reckon they all are?’ 

‘Enough. Fortunately.’ Snape muttered. 

‘Small miracles, eh?’ 

‘You’re a fool, Potter.’ 

‘I know.’ Harry replied, smiling. ‘You tell me at least once a day. Wish me luck!’ 

Severus rolled his eyes, but gently pushed Harry in the direction of the speaker’s podium, where he was being announced by the Minister for Magic. 

-

Harry had been forced to mingle with the Ministry officials and reporters after he had given his hashed together speech. It hadn’t gone terribly: he had talked about the importance of unity after the war – of getting away from ‘us and them’ thinking and from villainising people. It had gone down well, but given how drunk most of the guests were (with the possible exception of Minerva McGonagall, who had eyeballed him very seriously during the speech as if she was fully aware that five minutes ago she had had just as much of an idea as Harry did about the content of it), Harry thought he probably could have said anything and it would have gone down well. 

The forced mingling had gone, not well as such, (Harry thought it unlikely he would ever describe a meeting with a newspaper reporter to have gone well – well would be somehow managing to get out of the whole thing), but it had at least gone without a hitch. Severus had relegated himself to talk to the other teachers, not wanting to fuel the interest in his and Harry’s relationship and Harry had given vague answers as to why he had given up being an Auror to teach, and what his life was like post war. It had taken a great deal of self-control not to shout that it was absolutely none of their business what his personal life was like. It was the sort of thing he might have done five years ago, but years of unsavoury headlines had allowed him to learn that compliance was the easiest option. Afterwards he had posed uncomfortably for some staged photos with the Minister for Magic which undoubtedly would look forced, but this seemed to have the desired the effect, and slowly the journalists and photographers filtered out of the hall, and Harry released tension in his body he had had no idea he was holding. 

He had scanned the hall for Severus afterwards and not seeing him had made his way to the back of the hall where there was an exit onto a secluded balcony. It seemed like the sort of place someone like Snape would go to hide from a party. He was briefly held up by Minerva, who assured him that she was fully aware he had made the whole speech up on the spot, and she hoped he did not take such a lax approach to his teaching. He knew she was joking – earlier in the week she had pulled him into her office to tell him that Professor Hartwhistle would be leaving at the end of the year, and that in lieu of this she would like him to take over the role of Head of Gryffindor. He had balked at her – he had been teaching less than a year, but she had assured him that she had no doubt about his capabilities. Later Harry had realised that aside from her, he would be the only remaining member of staff who had been in Gryffindor House, so he supposed that she hadn’t had a choice. He had yet to tell Severus, but he was sure he would have something to say about the Head of Slytherin and the Head of Gryffindor. 

Harry had been right about the balcony. Severus was indeed standing, staring out onto the grounds, alone. It was almost nightfall now, and even in the summer the sky was starting to darken, its edges turning from a deep pink to dusky blue. The air was light around him, a gentle breeze playing through the leaves on the trees. 

‘How was it?’ Harry asked.

‘Passable.’ Severus conceded. 

‘Good enough for me.’ 

Harry came to stand next to Severus, laying his hand gently over the older man’s as it rested on the stone edge of the balcony. The stood for a while, encapsulated by the silence and Harry leaned closer to Severus, resting his head on his shoulder. 

‘Minerva asked me to be Head of Gryffindor next year.’ Harry said uncertainly. Snape’s reactions to things like this tended to be unpredictable. 

Snape pulled back to face Harry, staring at him incredulously. ‘Minerva has asked _you_ to be the Head of Gryffindor.’ He repeated slowly, sounding completely dumbfounded. ‘You have been a teacher here for less than a year, has she finally gone insane?’ 

‘I think she was thinking that, other than her, I’m the only Gryffindor teacher in the school.’ Harry replied. 

Severus’ eyes softened. ‘Ah, yes.’ He replied. ‘That is of course true, isn’t it? Well, I suppose beggars can’t be choosers, can they Potter.’ He laughed. 

‘No, I’m quite sure that they can’t, Severus.’ Harry replied, coy again. 

‘I do hope you aren’t referring to me as a beggar, Potter. Because then I really could not be held accountable for my actions if you were found in the hospital wing tomorrow morning.’ 

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Harry replied, closing the gap between him and Severus and looping his arms around the older man’s neck, smiling as he felt Severus pull him closer, his own arms wrapping around Harry’s waist. 

‘Do you think I’ll be good at it?’ He asked, voicing the question that had been worrying him at the back of his mind for most of that week.’ 

‘I am sure,’ Severus said, resting his forehead against Harry’s, ‘that you will be absolutely fine. You’re a lot more popular than I am at any rate.’ 

Harry laughed and brushed his lips softly over Severus’. 

‘Not from where I’m standing.’ He said quietly, before pulling Severus back in to kiss him, his tongue running over the entrance to Severus’ mouth, moaning when Severus’ lips parted to let him in. The kiss was familiar (soft, warm, _loving_ ), and Harry struggled to keep himself composed when a warmth so strong it was almost painful flooded his chest. This, this familiarity, this love, was what he had dreamed about when he had been alone and cold in his bed during the war (and before, for as long as he could remember, if he was being honest.) 

Moments later, Severus pulled back, his eyes surveying Harry with an emotion Harry had never seen on his face before. 

‘Shall we go?’ He said, his voice soft, gentle. ‘I’m sure everyone has seen quite enough of you this evening not to notice your absence.’ 

‘Ok.’ Harry replied, his voice just as soft as Severus’. ‘Where are we going?’ 

‘You’ll see.’ 

Severus lead Harry back through the great hall, keeping to the edges of the room so they wouldn’t be spotted, and out to the front of the castle, just beyond the apparition boundary. He gestured to Harry that he should hang on, obviously intending that he should side along apparate. 

‘You know, it would be a lot easier if you just told me where we were going.’ Harry said, rolling his eyes at Severus, who did not reply. He was obviously enjoying being cryptic. And then they were spinning, Harry clutching at Severus as they landed, stumbling slightly. 

‘Graceful as ever, Mr Potter.’ 

‘Well maybe if you’d told me where we were going,’ Harry began, but stopped, realising where they were. ‘My garden.’ He whispered, slightly awed, for it was his garden, but there were lights strung up in the trees and a blanket laid out on the grass, a bottle of champagne in a cooling bucket and two glasses resting on its edge. 

‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’ He said softly, finding Severus’ hand in the darkness and entwining their fingers. 

They sat down together on the blanket, Harry pressing himself into Severus’ side and resting his head slightly on his shoulder. 

‘Are you glad?’ He asked, his voice so soft it was barely discernible from the breeze. 

‘Am I glad that what, Potter?’ Severus’ voice cut through the silence sounding fondly exasperated. He had never understood why Harry felt the need to make such vague statements. 

‘Are you glad that I fell into your rooms?’ 

A short laugh escaped Snape’s lips. ‘Which of the many times you have fallen into my rooms are you referring to? The first time, perhaps, when you came to me, desperate and pleading in the middle of the night, or when you appeared in a heap on my floor, defying all laws of magic in the process.’ 

‘All of them.’ Harry said simply. 

‘Then yes, Harry, I am glad.’ Severus said softly. 

‘Good, because I am.’


End file.
